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THE LIFE 
OF THE REVEREND 

JOHN MoVICKAR, S. T. D., 

PKOFESSOK OF MOKAL AND INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, BELLE8- 
LETTUES, POLITICAL ECONOMY, AND THE EVIDENCES, 
IN COLUMBIA COLLEGE. ' 



BY HIS SON, 

WILLIAM A. McVICKAR, D. D. 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON. 

Cambrnaae: 3^i'bcvsitie 33vess. 

1872. 



f^^ri^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

William A. McVickar, D. D., 

in the Oifice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington 



EIVEKSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BT 

H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



A SON'S MONUMENT 



LOVED AND HONORED FATHER. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

EARLY life: 1787-1809. 

Birth. — Parentage. — Delicacy of Constitution. — Schools 
and Private Tutor. — Political Surroundings. — Enters Co- 
lumbia College. — College Life. — Accompanies his Father 
to England. — Private Studies at Home. — A Candidate 
for Holy Orders. — Theological Studies under Rev. Dr. 
Hobart pp. 1-15 

CHAPTER n. 

MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION : 1809-1811. 

Engagement to Miss Bard. — Dr. Samuel Bard. — The Wed- 
ding. — Life at Dr. Bard's. — Home at In wood. — Building 
of the Church. — Its Consecration. — Ordained Deacon 

16-26 

CHAPTER m. 

PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK: 1811-1817. 

Pastoral Work and Study. — Ordained Priest. — First Confir- 
mation at Hyde Park. — Illness and Change of Residence. — 
Slave-holding. — Anecdote of Dr. Bard, — " Family and 
Closet Devotions." — Declaration of Peace. — Wide Inter- 
ests in Pastoral Work. — Bible Society among the Blacks. — 
Visit to Governor Jay. — Reminiscences of Lady Hunting- 
ton respecting Addison, Pope, Bolingbroke. — Rev. Dr. 



VI CONTENTS. 

Peters First Bishop Elect of Vermont. — Ecclesiastical Trial 
of Eev. Timothy Clowes. — Rev. Mr. Jarvis . pp. 27-43 

CHAPTEE IV. 

CHANGE FROM PASTORAL TO ACADEMIC DUTIES: 1817. 

Death of Dr. Bowden. — Candidate for the Vacant Professor- 
ship. — Letter from Clement C. Moore. — Letter from Rev. 
Sam. F. Jarvis. — Letter from Bishop Hobart. — Elected 
Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy. — Influence 
of Hyde Park Life. — Habit of Versifying. — Mrs. Bar- 
ton. — United Deaths of Dr. and Mrs. Bard . . 44-60 

CHAPTER V. 

PROFESSORIAL DUTIES: 1817-1824. 

Removal to New York. — Old College Buildings. — Duties of 
his Chair. — Course of Political Economy. — Proposed The- 
ological Course. — Law School. — " Life of Dr. Bard." — 
Mr. William Bard. — Trip to Niagara . . . 61-73 

CHAPTER VL 

HOME INSTRUCTION, POLITICAL ECONOMY, AND FINANCE : 

1824-1827. 

Thoughts on Education. — Letters to Daughters at School. — 
Confirmation and First Communion. — Religious Practice 
and Religous Feelings. — Home Life. — " Outlines of Polit- 
ical Economy." — Nature of the Science. — Note from Thomas 
Jefferson. — Note from Chancellor Kent. — " Interest made 
Equity." — " Hints on Banking in a Letter to a Gentleman 
in Albany." — Financial Articles in the New York Re- 
view ......... 74-94 

CHAPTER VIL 

CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES : 1828. 

Secretary of the Mission Society of the Diocese. — Clerical 
Work. — Illness of President Harris. — Increase of CoUeg-e 



CONTENTS. vii 

Duties. — Opening of Grammar Scliool. — Death of Presi- 
dent Hams, and Funeral Discourse . . . pp. 95-110 

CHAPTER Vm. 

OVERWORK, AND FAILING HEALTH: 1829. 

Election of President Duer. — University Plans. — " Course of 
Public Lectures on Political Economy. — Visit to "Washing- 
ton. — President Jackson. — General Hayne. — Mr. Web- 
ster. — Leave of Absence for Six Months. — Voyage to Eu- 
rope 111-126 

CHAPTER IX. 

LONDON society: 1830. 

Arrival at London. — Mr. Bates. — Mrs. Heber. — Edward 
Irving. — Visit to Coleridge. — Lady Affleck. — Sir Thomas 
Acland. — Sh James Mackintosh. — Mr. Wilberforce. — 
Lord Stowell. — Chantry. — Hon. \Vilmot Horton . 127-137 

CHAPTER X. 

THE LAKE POETS : 1830. 

Death of George IV. — Robert Hall. — Miss Ponsonby. — 
Visit to Wordsworth. — IMrs. Hemans. — Visit to Southey 

138-147 

CHAPTER XL 

EDINBURGH SOCIETY: 1830. 

Melrose Abbey. — Mr. Lockhart. — Dr. Chalmers. — Jeffrey. 
— Dr. Andrew Thompson. — Professor Wilson. — Thomas 
Erskine. — Su' Robert Liston. — Mrs. Grant of Laggan 

148-156 

CHAPTER XII. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT — RETURN TO LONDON: 1830. 

Visit to Su- Walter Scott at Abbotsford. — Return to London. 



viii CONTENTS. 

— Mr. Hume's Election for Middlesex. — An English Elec- 
tion Scene. — Political Dinner. — Sir Francis Burdett. — 
Mr. Morrison and tlie Retail Trade of London. — Colonel 
Fitz-Clarence. — Duke of Wellington . . pp. 157-182 

CHAPTER XIH; 

THE CONTINENT : 1830. 

University of Ghent. — Public Schools of Andernach. — The 
King of Prussia. — Professor Schlosser of Heidelberg. — 
Strasbourg after the Three Days. — Zurich and the Brothers 
Pestalozzi. — Top of the Righi. — Count de Salis. — Prince 
Metternich. — The Family of DeRham. — Visit to Htiber. 

— Lausanne. — Hospice of the St. Bernard, and Discovery 
of Coal. — Napoleon's Crossing. — Geneva. — Literary Club. 

— Syndic Gallatin. — Council of Deputies . . 183-212 

CHAPTER XIV. c 

PARIS SOCIETY AFTER THE THREE DAYS : 1830. 

Arrival at Paris. — Fenimore Cooper. — Due de Broglie. — 
Hon. Mr. Rives. — Lafayette. — House of Deputies. — 
Trial of Prince Polignac. — Academy of Sciences. — Cuvier. 

— Humboldt. — Duchess de Broglie. — Chess. — M. Julien. 

— " Silk Buckingham." — Evening at the Palace. — Louis 
Philippe. — The Queen. — Madame Orleans. — Dnke of 
Orleans. — Return to London. — Campbell. — Lord Stowell. 

— Countess of Cork. — Incident of the Duke of Welling- 
ton. — Lord Lyndhurst. — University and Academy of 
France. — Ship Onto'/o — Verses to a Canary . 213-234 

CHAPTER XV. 

RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES : 1831. 

Rettirn to Duty. — Improved Health. — Death of Eldest 
Daughter. — A^'acation Totir through Pennsylvania. — Ill- 
ness of Mrs. McVickar. — Financial Questions. — Church 
Societies 235-248 



CONTENTS. ix 

CHAPTER XVL 

LETTERS : 1832. 

Tribute to the Memoiy of Sir Walter Scott. — Letter from 
Miss Sedgwick. -^ Letters from Mrs. Grant, of Laggan. — 
International Copyright. — Death of Mrs. Mc Vickar. — 
Purchase of a Country Place . . . pp. 249-260 

CHAPTER XVn. 

FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS : 1833-1835. 

Nott stove sent to the Hospice on the Great St. Bernard. —7 
City Missions. — "Be ye also ready." — "Early and Pro- 
fessional Years of Hobart." — Seminary Library Endow- 
ment. — IVIr. Talboys' Offering to the Seminary. — Dr. 
Hook of Leeds — Hugh James Rose. — Sir Robert Inglis. 
— Mrs. Hannah More. — Mr. Macready. — Constant Liter- 
ary Work 261-281 

CHAPTER XVm. 

COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY — VARIED INTERESTS : 

1835-1844. 
Bishop White. — Miss Martineau. — Vacation Life at Con- 
stableville. — Illness and Death of Eldest Son. — Death of 
Miss Bard. — " Alumni Address," and Evidences of Chris- 
tianity. — Coleridge and his Philosophy. — New Edition of 
the "Aids to Reflection." — Home Letter from Boston. — 
Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learning. — 
Scholarships. — " The Club." — Louis Napoleon. — Mr. and 
Mrs. Dickens 282-307 

CHAPTER XIX. 

CHAPLAINCY DUTIES : 1844-1862. 

Military Chaplaincy at Governor's Island. — Building of the 
Chapel. — Business Troubles. — War with Mexico. — Cali- 
fornia Regiment. — Mission to California. — Public Ministra- 
tions — Ministi'ations among the Sick. — The Rebellion. — 
Letter from General Anderson. — Resisrnation . 308-328 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XX. 

COLLEGE VIEWS : 1840-1850. 

Signature " M." — Bisliop Onderdonk. — Inauguration of 
President King. — Views on Education. — College Sugges- 
tions. — Influence over Students . '. . pp. 329-351 

CHAPTER XXI. 

CATHEDRAL MISSIONS AND CHURCH BUILDING: 1850-1854. 

New York Ecclesiological Society. — Cathedral System, and 
Bisliop Smith. — Sermon preached at the Jubilee Celebra- 
tion of the S. P. G. — Deaths of Son-in-law, Daughter, and 
Second Son. — Purchase of Country Place at Irvington. — 
Missionary and Church Work. — Bviilding and Dedication 
of the Chapel School of St. Barnabas. — Establishment of 
Prizes in Columbia College and in the Seminary . 352-369 

CHAPTER XXII. 

CHURCH INTERESTS : 1854-1864. 

Death of Bishop Wainwright. — Sermon before the Convention. 

— A Cathedral Home. — St. Stephen's College, Annandale. 

— Change of Duties in the College. — Memorial of the Two 
Daughters of Governor Jay. — The One Hundred and Fif- 
tieth Anniversary of Trinity School. — Home Letters. — 
" Provincial System " 370-392 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

RETIREMENT AND DEATH: 1864-1868. 

Report on Coinage. — Final Retirement from College Duties. 

— Presentation of Portrait in College Library. — Home Let- 
ters. — Founding of Scholarshii^s. — Birthday Verses to a 
Granddaughter. — Failing Health. — Death. — Burial at 
Hyde Park 393-405 



THE LIFE OF 

JOBJS[ MCYIOKAE, S. T. D. 



CHAPTER I. 

EARLY life: 1787-1809. 

JOHN McVICKAR was born in the city of New 
York, on the 10th of August, 1787. The year, 
as historic, was one which he was fond of recalhng. 
" The Constitution of the United States and I," he 
would say, " are of just the same age." 

His father, John McVickar, was one of the first 
merchants of New York. Of Scotch extraction, he 
came to America in early life, and entered into busi- 
ness with his brother Nathan. 

His mother was Anna, daughter of John Moore, 
of Newtown, Long Island, the descendant of one of 
the earliest English settlers in the colony, and him- 
self long regarded as a sort of patriarch in that staid 
old village. 

There was the heritage of ancestral Churchman- 
ship on both sides. 

As a merchant, his father stood among the highest 
1 



2 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

in a city then noted for its honorable men of trade. 
A nice sense of commercial honor, and a readiness to 
grant extensions and give assistance in commercial 
difficulty, were his characteristics. " Who has Mc- 
Vickar helped to-day ? " is reported to have been a 
common question on 'Change. 

As a man and a Christian in all the varied duties 
of home and society, he was equally exemplary. A 
vestryman of Trinity Church from 1801 to 1812, he 
still did not allow his duties there either to cramp 
his zeal or satisfy his obligations elsewhere. Four 
churches within what was then the one Diocese of New 
York, owe their origin, in whole or in part, and much 
of their prosperity, to the united zeal and liberality 
of Mr. and Mrs. McVickar, — Trinity Chapel, on the 
north side of Staten Island; St. Michael's, Blooming- 
dale ; St. James's, New York ; and St. Paul's, Con- 
stableville, Lewis County. But though such was the 
example of the father, and as one of the sons said in 
writing the news of his death, " My father lived for 
the happiness of his children," we must rather look 
to the mother, as is generally the case, for that per- 
sonal influence which has its moulding and modifying 
effect upon a child's character. 

Mrs. Anna McVickar, who died in the seventy- 
third year of her age, was one whom every one 
loved. " In the estimate of her character," to quote 
from the obituary notice at the time of her death, 
" it is not easy to say how much was due to natural 
temperament, how much to the early operation of 
religious principles. Neither is it necessary, for in 



EARLY LIFE. 3 

her both unquestionably concurred to form a charac- 
ter so peculiarly blameless, that they who knew her 
best and longest can now recall to mind no one word 
or action, through the varied events of a long life, 
and the trying duties of aU its social relations, which 
did not seem marked by a sense both of Christian 
duty and of native kindness. Her religion was truly 
that of the heart; it entered into all the daily duties of 
life, and under its abiding influences was she formed 
to that unpretending truth of character, that single- 
mindedness of heart and intention, that unruffled 
sweetness of temper, that spirit of quiet yet active 
benevolence, and that constant reference of every 
question to religious principles by which her life and 
conversation were so peculiarly distinguished." 

To such a mother, his loved guide in youth, his 
honored companion or constant correspondent in 
maturer years, my father undoubtedly owed much. 
We have it in his own words, when, writing to his 
grandfather at Newtown, on occasion of a brother's 
death, he says, " My mother writes with calmness, 
almost with cheerfulness. She bears it, as she has 
ever done her afflictions, with the most perfect resig- 
nation to the will of God, referring it to that wis- 
dom and goodness which knows and chooses what 
is best. My mother has always been a model to me 
of that practical, abiding sense of religion, and I pray 
God that I may be able to imitate her in it." Such 
are his feelings in 1819, when comparatively a young 
man ; and on his mother's death, in 1833, the mature 
man of forty-seven years writ;es, for no other eye but 



4 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAE. 

his own and the All-Seeing One, a series of prayers 
and meditations, one short extract from which I ven- 
ture here to produce : — 

" O God I thank Thee that from mj youth my 
mother taught me to love and fear Thee, to pi^ay to 
Thee in secret, to worship in Thy Holy Temple, and , 
to ohey Thee in all things — to read diligently Thy 
Holy Word, and to trust and rely in the merits and 
mediation alone of Thy Blessed Son." 

This reference to parents and parental example is 
not a mere tribute to a natural curiosity. It has its 
value. Looking upon each separate life as a worked- 
out problem, we naturally desire to be put in posses- 
sion of all the elements, however trivial, which helped 
to educe that final product of character in which the 
biographer seeks to interest his readers. It is this 
which should be the aim of biography, helping to sup- 
ply, to present workers, data for the formula of life. 

My father was the third-born of a large family, 
nine in number, seven boys and two girls. He 
was feeble in infancy, and had a delicacy of consti- 
tution which, up to middle life, was a trial to himself 
and a subject of anxiety to his friends. It was only 
after that period that he attained, through great 
regularity and activity of life, to that wiry vigor for 
which, in more advanced age, he was so noted. He 
was born at his father's city house, 231 Broadway, 
within sound, as he afterwards loved to recall, of the 
bell of that college (Columbia) to whose best interests 
his life was given. Of his early years and boyhood 
little or nothing can now be told ; letters and family 



EARLY LIFE. 6 

traditions are alike wanting. We know, however, 
that his boyhood was passed in stirring days. A few 
words written in 1807 show, as was natural, how he 
was influenced by the spirit of the times and the 
political complexion of his family. " The son of a 
Federalist of the old school," he writes, " and having 
myself worn the Federal cockade, I looked with great 
reverence to Governor Jay, who, to my mind, stood 
both as its firmest pillar and its purest representa- 
tive." How these few lines recall our own experi- 
ences of yesterday; and admit us into the boy-life of 
the close of the last century. The war was ended, 
but the military spirit was still uppermost, and the 
youthful members of every household, with true 
instincts, thought themselves, as they really were, 
deeply interested in the vast and momentous polit- 
ical questions of the hour. Hence the cockade and 
the bands of little patriots, and the fireside hero by 
which each swore, a Jay, a Hamilton, a Washington. 
A sole anecdote of these, his early years, survives 
as having been employed afterwards in home educa- 
tion. " I was jusf entering my seventh year," my 
father used to say, " and was quite unable to pro- 
nounce the letter S, when one day a friend calling 
at the house took me by the hand and said, ' How old 
are you, John ? ' — ' Going into Aeven,' said I, at which 
there was a general laugh and I retired in confusion, 
mentally resolving that I would not rest till I could 
sound an 8 as well as any one, a result which perse- 
verance and I soon attained." Those who remem- 
ber his clear utterance and distinct articulation of 



6 LIFE OF JOHN M^VJCKAR. 

after years, and his high appreciation of the virtue 
of perseverance, can readily see how this anecdote 
of the boy reveals the hidden man. 

Of schools and schooling I know nothing more 
than what a bare memorandum, discloses. It appears 
from this that he first went to a select school taught 
by a Mr. Ely, and established by a few gentlemen 
for the benefit of their sons. Then he went to 
the school of a Mr. Rudd, of which the remark is 
made " ordinary but best, eager to go farther." This 
was soon exchanged for the exclusive services of a 
private tutor, a learned Scotch clergyman of the 
name of Barlas. He was a man much devoted to 
the classics, and probably a good teacher, as he 
fitted his pupil, at the age of thirteen, to enter 
Columbia College, head of his class by merit, the 
youngest of a class numbering forty-five. This 
was at the beginning of the century. He en- 
tered in the year 1800. The examinations for en- 
trance in those days were markedly different from 
what they are at present. The students were then 
entered according to merit, and Latin composition 
was the chief test, written at the time, and handed 
in with a fictitious signature. Of this examination 
of the year 1800, which placed the young McVickar 
of thirteen at the head of a class numbering forty- 
five, I can give no record. The following, how- 
ever, from the successful candidate's own pen, de- 
scribing the similar triumph in 1819, of his young 
pupil and after friend. Griffin, whose early death was 
so widely mourned, will doubtless, mingling as it 



EARLY LIFE. 7 

must have done with his own recollections, give us 
a true picture of the scene. 

"In the autumn of this year, when just fifteen 
years old, Edmund appeared among the candidates 
for admission into Columbia College. The examina- 
tion for entrance into this college was at that time 
long and rigid, continued for several successive 
days, and terminating in a public arrangement of 
names in the order of merit. Such a contest be- 
tween scholars brought together for the first time, 
and proud of the reputation of their respective 
schools, was to all a scene of interest ; and to sen- 
sitive young minds, when thus thrown into the arena, 
seemed to realize the fables of the classic games* of 
ancient Greece. Most of the teachers, and many 
anxious fathers, were in constant attendance to en- 
courage their sons or pupils by their presence, or 
perhaps to become judges of the impartiality of the 
decision." 

It may not be amiss to add here the comment which 
my father makes upon this practice, after the double 
experience of his own success in 1800 and the effects 
of failiu'e long witnessed, as a professor. 

•' While we call this victory honorable," he writes, 
" we cannot deny that it was painful, and dearly pur- 
chased by the mortified feelings and injured prospects 
of others ; so much so that it may well awaken the 
doubt whether such highly excited emulation in the 
education of youth be not productive of more evil 
than good. How often do we see the bold heart 
wearing out the feeble body in the contest ? and 



8 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

when tliat contest is over, though some generous 
spirits maj rise above the disappointment, yet how 
often do we see it turning into gall and bitterness, 
and weighing down the heart with the double load 
of sorrow and envy. Nor is the moral injury of 
such emulation greater than the intellectual. When 
made the great engine of education, as in our coun- 
try it is, it weakens the mind by premature exertion, 
cultivates the memoiy at the expense of the judg- 
ment, and invariably tends to enfeeble the character 
by building it upon the sandy foundation of tem- 
porary excitement. Hence the anomalous fact we 
are so often called to lament and wonder at, that 
the praised and honored youth turns out the feeble 
and nerveless man. Like the boy taught to swim 
on bladders, in a quiet bath, he goes smoothly on, so 
long as he is buoyed up by praise ; but when called 
to act unnoticed and alone, to walk unmoved through 
good report and evil report, he feels as the same arti- 
ficial swimmer would do, without his aids, in the 
rough and stormy ocean." 

The presidency of the College in the year 1800 
was vacant. Dr. Johnson, in his seventy-fourth year, 
had just resigned, and though Dr. Wharton of Phil- 
adelphia, and Bishop Moore of New York, were suc- 
cessively elected during the next four years, the en- 
tire care and instruction of the students fell upon the 
professors. Doctors Kemp, Wilson, and Bowden, 
all highly respectable and able men. Of my father's 
college course I know but little. That it was cred- 
itable there can be no doubt, as he continued to hold 



EARLY LIFE. 9 

the position which he had gained at his entrance, and 
in 1804 graduated at the head of his class. A vol- 
ume of compositions is all that remains to attest the 
character of his college work and though neatly writ- 
ten and well expressed, their chief merit is perhaps 
their simplicity and briefness, confirming what was 
afterwards the successful student's own judgment on 
himself, that whatever success he attained was due to 
plodding industry and not to talent. By the closing 
words of the composition on " History," written in 
] 800, we are forcibly reminded of what must have 
been the experiences and exciting subjects of talk to 
the college boys of these days, " And within our own 
memory we have seen a Washington conducting 
these States through various hardships, difficulties, 
and almost innumerable obstacles to a safe and hon- 
oi'able peace." Washington had died not a twelve- 
month before. And at the final examination of the 
class in 1804 an event was announced which must 
have aroused to the full their youtliful feelings, as it 
did the sorrow and indignation of a mourning people. 
Youns Alexander Hamilton, the eldest son of the 
General, was a member of this class. On the morn- 
ing of the 11th of July, 1804, he was not among his 
class-mates at examination, and on some inquiry be- 
ing made by the professor, young McVickar said 
that he had see^i him but an hour before galloping up 
Broadway at a most furious pace, and that he feared 
something must have been the matter. That day's 
duties were not over before it was known that Gen- 
eral Hamilton, to whose talents and patriotism all 



10 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR, 

men looked with reverence, had fallen in a duel, by 
the hand of Aaron Burr, and that he was at that mo- 
ment lying fatally wounded, at the house of a friend 
at Bloomingdale. The sad but exciting; event was 
thus brought closely home to these young minds, and 
we are not surprised to find that the Latin salutatory 
at the approaching Commencement, which belonged 
to my father, as head of his class, should have had 
for its subject, " Eloquence and Hamilton." 

Thus in the Commencement Hall of Columbia 
College, draped in mourning for the sad event, did 
John McVickar, in his seventeenth year, pronounce 
the first public eulogium on General Hamilton. 
" The boast of our college and the glory of our 
country, just fallen on the field of mistaken honor ; 
a doubter in the days of a busy life, but a sincere 
and humble believer on his dying bed." Such are 
the words used on a later occasion, in recalling this 
circumstance, which had so deeply impressed his 
youthful mind. 

In 1805, Mr. John McVickar went abroad to visit 
his aged father, look after his business, and try to 
recruit his own failing health. He took with him 
his son John, the subject of this memoir, just fresh 
from college. Beyond the bare facts of a visit to 
Oxford, a day spent at " Peter House " to see a 
brother who was a student there, and an interview 
with Lord Stowell, then Sir William Scott, and a 
short tour in Scotland, I find no records of the 
journey or its incidents. 

We gather, however, a single touch for our por- 



EARLY LIFE. 11 

trait at this time, in a mother's solicitude for her 
absent son. In a letter addressed to him while 

abroad she says, " Miss C is very well and often 

speaks of you, and I dare say regrets your absence, as 
you appeared to be a favorite beau. She is in my 
opinion so lovely a girl that I should be proud to 

have her for a daughter I hope, my dear John, 

that although you may mix with the thoughtless and 
the gay, your mind will never lose those serious im- 
pressions which I with pleasure observed before you 
left home ; and however a certain writer may remark, 
that travelling unsettles all principles, I hope you will 
prove an exception, for were you to acquire ever so 
much knowledge or worldly advantage, yet, if it 
tended to unsettle your mind with respect to religious 
and moral principles, I should lament it as the most 
serious evil which could befall you." 

These " serious impressions " must have been 
deepened rather than disturbed by foreign travel, for 
shortly after his return to New York he recommenced 
his studies, which, after a year's time devoted to 
general subjects, resulted in his oflPering his name to 
Bishop Moore as a candidate for Holy Orders. This 
was in 1807. For the next three years he pursued 
his theological reading. There being no theolog- 
ical course or seminary of any kind at that early day 
of our Church's history, the reading of candidates for 
Holy Orders was usually conducted under some 
clergyman approved by the Bishop. In this case, 
Dr. afterwards Bishop Hobai't was the one selected, 
and thus commenced an intimacy, which, with much 



12 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

reverence on the one side, soon ripened into a mutual 
attachment, which only ended with the Bishop's Hfe. 
It found its appropriate monument in the extended 
memoir which afterwards appeared from his former 
pupil's pen. 

During these years of study my father wisely took 
advantage of a country-seat at Bloomingdale, belong- 
ing to the family, to obtain that quiet which the home 
in Broadway and a large household was not likely to 
afford. In summer the family were there, but in 
winter he was sole occupant of the large mansion on 
what was then the quiet banks of the Hudson, far 
removed from the great city, whose northern suburbs 
M^ere just beginning to straggle above Chambers 
Street. The property had belonged to Mr. Con- 
stable, whose son William married one of my father's 
sisters, and was deservedly considered one of the 
most beautiful of the once celebrated Bloomingdale 
Places. The house, shorn of its groves and acres, 
may still be seen at the foot of Eighty-sixth Street, 
forming a portion of the present buildings of the 
" House of Mercy." It was a congenial residence 
for the young student, who was fond of the country 
and horticultural pursuits, and to whom the care of 
the place was now intrusted by his father. Though 
giving most of his time, as we shall see, to his books, 
he still paid much attention to beautifying the grounds, 
planting out many English elms, imported direct from 
England, which he afterward transplanted to the 
green of Columbia College when he became its Pro- 
fessor. The planting of trees was ever to him a 



EARLY LIFE. 13 

delight, and he seldom failed to leave his mark in this 
way on the landscape, wherever he found even a 
temporary home. 

His readino; and the division of his time during; this 
period of study was remarkably systematic. I have 
before me a little book of " memoranda," dated Jan- 
uary 7, 1807, which begins with an exact -division 
of time and subjects or books for every day in the 
week. Then follows a diary, not of thoughts, but of 
accomplished work. His chief studies during this 
year appear to have been Hebrew, Italian, and French, 
with such reading as Paley, Sir William Jones, Rob- 
ertson's " Charles V.," and Shakespeare. On Febru- 
ary 2d, he writes, " Determine henceforward to learn 
ten lines of poetry before breakfast every morning, 
to begin with Horace's " Ars Poetica." A few days 
after, " Formed a scheme of artificial memory by 
letters and applied it to Bossuet's ' Chronology.' " 

The latter part of the year a fuller diary is com- 
menced, with notes upon his reading. The first page 
is entitled, " The Economy of my Time," and beside 
the schedule for each day, shows this proportion per 
week : Latin, six hours ; Greek, six ; Hebrew, twelve ; 
Divinity, eighteen ; French, three ; Italian, three. 
It may not be without interest to give two brief spec- 
imens of these notes of the young student of twenty, 
now left so much to his own guidance, as exemplify- 
ing that practical straightforward habit of mind 
which displays itself throughout, and which became 
a life characteristic. 

''^ Monday/, December 1th. — Virgil's '^Eneid:' 



14 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

read four hundred lines, which finishes lib. XII. The 
battle between the two heroes is not the masterpiece 
I expected from the pen of Virgil. The one is a 
braggadocio, the other a coward ; the gods arrange 
the matter among themselves, and the reader is left 
to wade through the description, without interest as 
to the combatants or anxiety as to the event." 

" Saturday^ l^th December. — Greek Testament : 
read sixth and seventh chapters of Matthew. Began 
to study Greek on a new plan, ^. e. not to plague 
myself with the critical acquaintance of every word, 
but having a sufficient idea of the grammar to judge 
of the parts of the verbs, &c., to devote myself to 
the acquisition of words, and thus facilitate the read- 
ing of the language. 'Tis wonderful the small stock 
of words that is gained by a boy in this or the Latin 
language after three or four years' hard application in 
the common way ; and of course how difficult he finds 
it to read at first sight a common sentence. Youth 
is the proper time for the acquisition of words, when 
the memory is both quick and retentive, and when 
as yet they are content to heap up arbitrary sounds 
without adding to their stock of ideas." 

During 1808 the same diary is kept up, but now in 
French, and some little French book is always kept 
in the pocket for chance moments of reading. For 
a small portion of the year the diary is kept in Latin, 
and a volume of " Discerpta " shows a very fair 
range of theological readmg. 

Thus was passed a youth marked by the self-dis- 
cipline of the determined student, added to the gen- 



EARLY LIFE. 15 

eral self-restraint of a Christian young man. How 
far it was a preparation for happiness or the re- 
verse is a question to which the succeeding pages 
of this thread of an individual life should supply an 
answer. 



CHAPTER II. 

MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION: 1809-1811. 

I HE jear 1809 brings us to the event which more 
or less shapes and colors the future of most 
lives. 

Early in this year my father became engaged to 
Eliza, youngest daughter of Dr. Bard, of Hyde Park. 
The family with which he thus connected himself 
was one of distinctive if not remarkable character- 
istics. Like many of the older families of New York, 
such as the Jays, Bowdoins, Pintards, and Boudinots, 
the Bards were descended, and in their case on both 
sides, from French refugees, who, preferring their 
faith to their country, became exiles to America at 
the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Dr. Samuel 
Bard, grandson to the refugee, was educated in the 
medical schools of Scotland, then justly celebrated, 
and became one of the first physicians in New York 
city. Not troubling himself much about politics, and 
finding plenty to occupy him in his profession, he still 
was a Tory in feelings and had more than once to 
leave the city during the Revolutionary War. His 
character and reputation, however, and the prefer- 
ence given to him by General Washington, soon re- 
established him in full practice, and in 1778 and at 



MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 17 

the age of fifty-six, having made a competency, and 
taken Dr. Hosack as his partner, he retired to Hyde 
Park, a most beautiful spot, about eighty miles up the 
Hudson River. This property was part of a patent 
right which his maternal grandfather obtained when 
private secretary to Lord Cornbury, governor of the 
province of New York, and favorite cousin of Queen 
Anne. This was the origin of the name, the tract 
being called "" Hyde Park," as a sort of complimen.t 
to his patron. 

To this romantic and beautiful spot Dr. Bard had 
retired about eleven years before the event which 
was now to add a new member to his family, and 
join a ncAv and influential current to the life stream 
whose course we are pursuing. He was a sort of a 
patriarch in his neighborhood. His only son, William 
Bard, was married and resided near ; his elder daugh- 
ter, married to Judge Johnston, Avas also with a large 
family settled close by ; while his own household con- 
sisted of his wife, his aunt, Mrs. Barton, his sister 
Miss Sally Bard, and his only unmarried child, 
Eliza, now engaged to be married to the subject of 
this memoir. If this detail seems over minute, it 
must be pardoned as necessary to enable the reader 
to enter into the happiest if not the most influential 
portion of my father's life. 

One letter from father to daughter, shortly before 
the engagement, is here inserted to help to picture 
the home into which my father was about to enter : — 

Hyde Park, Decembei-27, 1804. 

My dear Child, — Your mother tells me I must 
2 



18 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

fill this page ; but where shall I find matter ? Our 
uniform life affords neither variety nor anecdote. 
Had I indeed the talent to dress 'the same sentiments 
in all the beautiful variety of Madame De Sevigne, I 
might say again and again how much we love you, 
and that we are proud of you ; and that even at a 
distance you gild the evening of our lives with the 
sunshine and joy of youth. But you know all this 
already, and repetition cannot make it more true ; I 
will, therefore, only charge you to return us that por- 
tion of our treasure which is in your keeping — your 
own health and happiness, bright and unalloyed. 

I have received great pleasure in the beautiful 
specimens you have sent me of your skill and indus- 
try in drawing ; and from yoiir future improA^ement, 
I promise myself a source of delight all the rest of 
my life. I have placed them up against the wall 
opposite my seat, that I may have the pleasure of 
constantly viewing them and anticipating the pleas- 
ure we shall enjoy when we come to apply your 
talent to a thousand useful and ornamental subjects. 
Your fondness for gardening and painting have ever 
been strong passions of mine, and we will now cul- 
tivate them together ; which will add the greatest 
zest to my enjoyment, and lay up for you a never 
failing source of the most innocent delight. Every- 
thing connected with gardening, drawing, and the 
study of nature is virtuous, feminine, and elegant ; 
every sentiment and feeling they excite is peculiarly 
becoming in a female mind : they soften and harmon- 
ize the affections, smooth all the asperities of char- 



MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 19 

acter, and even allay the bitterness of disappointment 
and sorrow. Let nothing, therefore, my good girl, 
slacken your industry in this pursuit ; and be careful 
not to divide your attention between too many ob- 
jects, as mediocrity in any accomplishment will sat- 
isfy neither me nor you. 

But I had almost forgot to bestow upon you your 
just praise for the readiness with which you have 
complied with my desire to avoid large parties ; they 
consume a great deal of time, with little pleasure, 
and no improvement. It is my boast to have chil- 
dren who know how to submit to what is right with- 
out repining. 

God bless you, my dear child, 

S. B. 

Our subject is well carried on by a letter from Miss 
Sally Bard, Dr. Bard's sister, to a friend in England. 
The minute and interested detail is accounted for by 
the fact that the two families had been separated by 
the war, one, the Kempes, going to England, the 
other, the Bards, remaining in this country, while 
the same affection and interest in each other's affairs 
was kept up by letter for sixty years. These letters 
are now in the writer's possession, and he does not 
hesitate to give in full the following one as affording 
just such home touches of portraiture as the biogra- 
pher generally finds it impossible to obtain, or, if he 
does, is too apt to think beneath the dignity of his sub- 
ject. The marriage took place November 12, 1809. 



20 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Hyde Park, December 18, 1809. 
I ought long since, my beloved friend, to have 
answered your last most welcome letter : shall I say ' 
I waited to tell you my beloved Eliza has changed 
her name to McVickar, and though the honeymoon 
was over last Sunday, yet I have scarcely found time 
to return to my normal habits of thought and occupa- 
tion. Contrary to Eliza's wishes, we had a large and 
consequently a gay wedding. He had a large family 
and many friends to be invited, and, besides, our own 
home circle, our vicinity to Governor Lewis, Chan- 
cellor Livingston, and Mr. Cruger's family, with 
many in New York who had been too kindly affec- 
tioned to her to be left out (unless we had quite a 
private wedding), swelled our number not only to 
filling our own house, but Mr. Pendleton's, William 
Bard's, and Mr. Johnston's. She was married on 
Sunday evening, the 12th of November, — a most 
solemn moment to those who have had her so long 
exclusively to themselves, and who it has been the 
study of her life to make happy. But then, what 
cause of gratitude have we in the prospect of her's 
and our happiness — character, talents, temper, 
family, and fortune agreed to our fondest, our warm- 
est expectations. My brother says he never knew- a 
young man — not much above two-and-twenty, only 
two months older than Eliza — so excellent a scholar 
in the languages, and so well read and perfect a 
master of every subject of science and polite litera- 
ture ; and I can say few that I have seen equal him 
in a retentive memory to bring forward agreeable 



MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 21 

things in conversation ; and he has a pecuhar gayety, 
ahnost sportiveness of temper, that diffuses cheerful- 
ness all around him; and oh, with what pleasure can I 
add that the turn of his mind is all for dome'stic joys. 
He was in England two years ago with his father. 
Oh, could we have looked forward to this day, how I 
should liked you to have seen the lad, and more be- 
cause he is pleasing to look upon ; for though a hand- 
some face and person is of no great consequence, yet, 
added to better things, I always thought it very 
agreeable both in man and woman. I am almost 
ashamed of reaching nearly to the bottom of the 
second page on the subject of our young people, but 
this is their day of consequence, and in future I will 
be more laconic. There wei'e ten days of dancing 
and festivity, when, by degrees, Ave sobered down to 
our usual habits of spending our time. Mr. McVick- 
ar's mornings are always occupied in study till twelve 
or one, when, if the weather is good, they walk, ride 
to the farm, and sometimes snow-ball each other ; if 
not, they amuse themselves within doors with chess, 
battledore, or some other recreation. You know how 
it is in our family ; every one lives in their separate 
apartments till dinner. The afternoons are short, 
but he gives them to us, reading aloud works of taste 
and improvement. Tea brings us all togetlier till 
bed-time. The early part of the evening brother 
either reads while we work or plays chess with John 
McVickar. At eight the Avhist party is formed, and 
we have our little table at the other side of the fire, 
where we pass two hours very pleasantly, varied ac- 



22 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

cording to our humor; reading, chatting, drawing 
characters, writing verses, making conundrums, or 
anything that comes uppermost, — I making myself 
younger,' perhaps, than I ought to do, to give the 
young people pleasure. He does not expect to take 

Orders till next spring twelve-month 

Most affectionately, 

S. Bard. 

How truly religion went hand in hand with cheer- 
fulness and even gayety, in this household of the olden 
time, is shown by the following prayer used by Dr. 
Bard at the ordinary evening devotions on the day 
on which the marriage took place. It was his custom 
to add something of the kind at family prayer, on all 
marked occasions, either of joy or sorrow. 

" O, most gracious God, bless with Thy favor and 
protection our children, who have in Thy presence 
become united in marriage. May they place their 
hopes of happiness first in love to Thee, faith in Thy 
promises, obedience to Thy commands, and submis- 
sion to Thy will ; and next to these, in a sincere, 
tender, and generous friendship for each other. May 
these affections brighten all their prospects and joys 
in life ; and may they always fly to these for comfort 
under the misfortunes or afflictions with which Thou 
shalt see fit to prove them. May we, their parents, 
enjoy, while we live, the unspeakable blessing of wit- 
nessing their virtues and happiness : and, when death 
approaches, may the blessed hope of meeting again 
in Thy presence forever, cheer our last hour, and 
soften the pain of parting." 



MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 23 

With the exception of occasional visits to his own 
family in New York, this happy and congenial Hyde 
Park household was my father's home for the first 
year of his married life. His expectant profession 
stimulated and gave shape to Dr. Bard's long cher- 
ished idea of a church on his own property, and it 
was not lono- before the site was determined on and 
given, the plan settled, and the work commenced. 
My father had already purchased, some two miles 
above Hyde Park, a wooded slope on the river bank, 
and was there building for himself. He was natur- 
ally fond of planning and building,, and was not with- 
out some skill in architecture, which had already 
brought him credit through plans for Gi'ace Church, 
New York, which when quite young he had elabor- 
ately prepared and handed in anonymously for com- 
petition. We may, therefore, picture him this year 
as both a busy and a happy man. 

The same year, 1811, saw both home and church 
completed ; the home first, which received the name 
of " In wood," and to which my father and family, 
consisting of wife, infant daughter, and Miss Sally 
Bard, who thenceforth was to be a cherished mem- 
ber of his household, removed early in June. In 
after years, writing for a great niece. Miss Bard thus 
describes the new home : — 

" In June, 1811, we removed to Inwood, a place 
chosen in the romantic days of your father and 
mother, built in the same taste, more for beauty than 
convenience ; the road to the house, from choice, 
difficult of access, among dark and winding paths, 



24 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

over rocks and stones, and much further round than 
was necessary." 

This judgment was probably correct, for two years 
saw a change to a comfortable cottage about equi- 
distant between the church and the Hyde Park man- 
sion, and not five minutes' walk from either. 

The church, erected mainly through the liberality 
of Dr. Bard and Mr. McVickar's father — a coun- 
terpart of which can now be seen in old St. Luke's, 
New . York — was ready for consecration in the 
month of October. The young candidate was to be 
ordained deacon at the same time. Bishop Hobart, 
who had just passed through the stormy times of his 
own election and consecration to the episcopate, 
officiated, and we can easily imagine, if imagination 
were not rendered unnecessary by the following 
graphic picture from the pen which has already aided 
us, how full of happiness must have been the occa- 
sion : — 

" My brother has lived," says Miss Bard, writing 
to her English friends, " to see completed, and more 
than answer his expectations, the pious work he so 
arduously undertook and prosecuted, and after the 
vigor of life passed in a constant course of useful- 
ness and active benevolence, closes his career with 
the delightful consciousness of having his last his 
best work, and already seeing and enjoying the blest 
effects of it. With little more than the assistance of 
his own family he has built a church, a lovely one 
that strikes every eye with its taste and beauty. It 
is near the mansion-house, half a mile from the vil- 



MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 25 

lage, and near a grove of locust-trees. On the 12tli 
of October it was consecrated, and on the following 
day our beloved friend was ordained to the ministry. 
Never was there a more affecting and solemn scene ; 
the hubbub of a city consecration can give no idea of 
it. But the ordination was still more interesting. 
The Bishop and two clergymen attended, his father, 
mother, and others of his family, and every one of 
ours, formed a group that seemed to touch every heart 
in the church, and the Bishop, on his return, said he 
had never witnessed so deeply affecting a scene. He 
preached the sermon, and took occasion to speak with 
high but modest praise of his knowledge from infancy 
of John McVickar's character, and touched very 
handsomely on brother's being the founder, father, 
and patron of the church. On Sunday, Mr. Mc- 
Vickar preached his first sermon. It would be nat- 
ural for me to be partial in its praise, but indifferent 
persons spoke highly of it, and Governor Lewis in 
particular, who, observing the pallid looks of his 
fathei", laboring under a lingering and painful disease, 
said to Mr. Pendleton, ' But who would not take his 
complaints to be the father of such a son ? ' " 

To this picture of Mr. McVickar's early married 
life, thus drawn for me by other hands, it is not for the 
writer to add a word. I may, however, be allowed 
to close it with a few lines bearing a date some years 
later, and found among my father's papers : — 

TO ELIZA, 12TH NOVEMBER, 1817. 

Dear was the mistress, when with downcast eye. 
And glowing cheek, she breathed a kind reply; 



26 LIFE OF JOHN 3I(^VICKAE. 

Deaeer the bride, when first by right divine 
I kissed her virgin lips, and called her mine; 

Deaebst the vfife, when to her bosom prest 

She soothes each anxious care, and lulls my soul to rest. 



CHAPTER III. 

PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK : 1811-1818. 

rpiHE religious destitution of the banks of the Hud- 
-*- son then, even as with the West now, compelled 
the relaxation of the good ecclesiastical rule that the 
deacon should always be the assistant of the priest. 
Thus my father, immediately on his ordination, 
though still a deacon, was elected rector of St. James' 
Church, Hyde Park, and became responsible at once 
for full pastoral duty. 

" This country," writes Miss Bard, " had no Epis- 
copal Church nearer to the southward than Pough- 
keepsie, nor to the northward within twenty miles, 
so that our common people either attended ignorant 
Methodist meetings or spent their Sundays in idle- 
ness. Since Mr. McVickar's entrance into the min- 
istry, now about six months, he has conscientiously 
devoted himself to the improvement of his own mind 
and the good of others, visiting the sick, attending 
the poor, and instructing the ignorant, in which his 
wife joins him most sincerely, never having enjoyed 
admiration and gayety as much as she now does join- 
ing him in acts of charity and piety." 

This devotion of the young rector to the improve- 
ment of his own mind, might have become a snare 



28 LIFE OF JOHN MCVJCKAR. 

to him had it not been joined with a strong prac- 
tical conscientiousness, for he was still a student and 
a real lover of study. Tliis jear he began read- 
ing Blackstone, "resolved," as a line in his note- 
book says, " to obtain a general knowledge of the 
principles of law." But some months after, in the 
same note-book, comes the following : " Finished the 
first two volumes, but resolved to give up this study, 
at least for the present, from finding the duties of my 
profession more than enough to engage my whole 
time." 

In 1812 he was ordained priest in Trinity Church, 
New York, by Bishop Hobart, immediately after the 
opening services of the Diocesan Convention. 

In the episcopal address before the Convention of 
1814, we have the following satisfactory evidence of 
parochial industry, the Bishop having just visited his 
parish to administer, for the first time, the rite of Con- 
firmation : — 

" The congregation of St. James, Hyde Park, 
which originally consisted of a few select families, 
has been greatly increased in number by the assiduous 
labors of its rector, who has been particularly atten- 
tive to catechetical instruction, not merely in the 
church, but in his parochial visits to the families and 
schools of his parish." 

Through his after niemoir of Bishop Hobart, we 
are enabled to give, in the rector's own words, the re- 
membrance of this first Confirmation in his church : — 

" The author, indeed, can call to mind few scenes 
of deeper pathos than the one he saw exhibited on 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 29 

that occasion. The youthful circle, unbonneted and 
bareheaded, with here and there one in middle and 
advanced life among their number, deeming it be- 
coming, thus ' to fulfill all righteousness ; ' the youth, 
with streaming eyes, trembling and agitated, some to 
the very verge of sinking beneath their feelings ; 
the interested and eager circle behind of parents, and 
friends, and congregation, hanging, as it were, upon 
the words of their spiritual father, — all tended to 
form a picture lovely to the eye of the philanthropist, 
and overpowering to that of tlie Christian." 

During the year 1813 a long nervous fever pros- 
trated my father's strength and led finally to his 
chano-e of residence from " Inwood " to " The Cot- 
tage," directly opposite the church. Dr. Roosevelt 
Johnson, one who knew and loved him well, his suc- 
cessor in the parish, writes : "There, on a site which 
challenges comparison with any single view on the 
banks of our beautiful Hudson, he resided five years, 
distinguished, even so early, for his maturity of mind, 
his activities, his attentiveness, and his able, eloquent, 
and touching discourses. Busy among his parishion- 
ers, fondly regarded by them then, he was also cher- 
ished by them long years after. Though he had the 
disadvantage of a voice not powerful, and somewhat 
peculiar, yet it was clear as a bell and musical ; and 
his delivery was impressive, commanding the atten- 
tion and moving the affections." 

I judge that this estimate of him as a preacher 
must have been correct, from a remark made to me 
not long since by Mr. Samuel B. Ruggels : "I was 



30 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

a school-boy at Pouglikeepsle, when your father was 
rector at Hyde Park, and many a time have I slipped 
away and gone up there seven miles to hear him, be- 
cause I was fond even then of a good sermon and good 
preaching." 

The " Cottage " here spoken of was commenced by 
Dr. Bard, while my father Avas absent on account of 
ill health. He did not believe in his clergyman be- 
ing so far away from his church, or his children and 
grandchildren so far away from him. Hence this 
lovely spot was arranged, as a home, midway be- 
tween his own house and the church. It was the res- 
idence of the family for the rest of their stay at Hyde 
Park, and soon became a marked centre of quiet 
church influence and genial home life. 

The following note in Miss Bard's diary reminds 
us that this was in days long since gone by, at least 
for the State of New York: "Had a letter from Mr. 
McV. mentioning the purchase of a black man and 
his wife for the term of seven years." This gives 
point to the remark which I often heard my father 
make, that slavery, beside its inherent evils, had a 
most injurious effect upon the character of the mas- 
ter, adding always, " I know it from experience." 
The law in New York at that time set the slaves free 
after a certain age. This gave rise to circumstances 
often annoying doubtless, but sometimes, as in the 
following case, ludicrous. A self-constituted com- 
mittee, one of them a Quaker, determined to call 
upon Dr. Bard, then resident in the city, to inquire 
the age of his colored boy, imagining that he was im- 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 33 

lawfully detained in servitude. They were courte- 
ously received, until the object of their visit was 
declared, when the Doctor drew himself up with dig- 
nity and rang the bell. Pompey, the boy in ques- 
tion, answered the call. " Pompey," said he, " go 
and get your hat " — the Quaker as was usual with 
his sect was wearing his. This having been done, 
he added, " Pompey, put your hat on and take my 
seat." " Gentlemen," he said, turning to the com- 
mittee, " I leave you to discuss the questions which 
you and Pompey may have in common," and bowed 
himself out. One of the committee afterwards re- 
marked that he got a lesson then which kept him out 
of all such scrapes in the future. 

The salary as rector of this little country parish 
during these years, from 1815 to 1818, was but 
$250. A small amount, I do not know how much, 
had been received annually from Trinity Corpora- 
tion, New York, but even that in 1815 was stopped. 
The cii'cular announcing the fact, signed by Richard 
Harrison as " Comptroller," and sent, we presume, 
to other parishes, reads curiously under the light of 
1871. " The enhanced prices of the necessaries and 
comforts of life, and the depreciation of money," 
demand increase of salary for their own clergy and 
officers. " The requisite endowments for Grace 
Church and St. George's Church, lately separated 
from them, and the great calamity experienced in 
the destruction of St. George's Church by fire," 
*' enhance necessary expenses and involve their 
affairs in perplexity and embarrassment." 



32 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

" The permanent annual revenue of the Corpora- 
tion of Trinity Church, including pew rents, does not 
exceed twelve thousand dollars, upon the most liberal 
estimate ; whilst their certain and necessary annual 
expenses amount to at least double that sum, beside 
the expenses of repairing and cleaning three churches, 

and fire-wood, and other contingent charges 

The Corporation are persuaded that this plain ex- 
position of facts must be sufficient to justify them in 
the eyes of their brethren. They hope, that by the 
cooperation of the several congregations which com- 
pose their body, and by the adoption of some pru- 
dent plans for the management of their property, the 
situation of the Church may, in a short time, be 
materially improved. They are also persuaded that 
no assurance can be necessary to convince their 
brethren in the country that, as they have heretofore 
done, they will again pay proper attention to them 
as soon as the situation of their affairs will permit 
them to do so." 

It is about this time that I find the fragmentary 
beginnings of that volume which was first published 
long after in 1835, under the title of " Devotions for 
the Family and the Closet, from the Manual of a 
Country Clergyman." It was in truth the outgrowth 
and the fruit of these few years of early pastoral work. 
Prepared for his own family and private use, enriched, 
according to his father-in-law's example, on every 
special occasion of joy and sorrow with the outpour- 
ings of both a thankful and a submissive spirit, it is 
undoubtedly the true record of my father's spiritual 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 33 

experiences during these years. True in its meas- 
ure of the whole work, this is especially so of the 
latter portion, " Devotions fol* the Closet," which the 
preface says " are from a more private diary, and are 
added not without many misgivings." This " diary," 
if ever existing in a formal shape, was probably long 
since destroyed, and this book of devotions alone re- 
mains to testify to that hidden life, only the outward 
evidences of which belong to the biographer. 

" These words of Christian prayer," says the 
preface, " lay claim to no merit beyond simplicity 
and sincerity ; but it may be that to some hearts 
they may come more home, on that very account. 
In this hope they are made public ; their author casts 
them in as his secret mite, into the treasury of the 
Church of God ; if they add but one living stone to 
the temple, he is more than repaid." 

The volume was published anonymously, and has 
been used by many, even clergymen, without any 
knowledge as to who was the writer. Several edi- 
tions have been exhausted and yet it is still in de- 
mand. Letters might here be inserted from many, 
who expressed most warmly their obligations, but it 
is unnecessary. Whatever the author may have 
looked for in his other literary works, in this he 
sought not, or rather he shrank from praise. It was 
too truly the child of those joys and sorrows in 
which the stranger intermeddleth not, to admit of 
any desire to receive for it the meeds of author- 
ship. We therefore close this somewhat anticipated 
subject, though in reality one which throws its light 
3 



34 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

back upon tliese years of pastoral work, with two 
letters, one from the author himself accompanying 
his gift to Miss Sally Bard of a copy of the printed 
volume, and the other from a brother clergyman on 
first discovering its authorship. 

Mt dear Aunt, — This little work, which I may 
well term our common property, will be, I trust and 
doubt not, a new bond of affection between us. The 
beautiful prayers you gaA^e me for it make it yours as 
well as mine, but that which above all makes it common 
to us, is that it has reference to those who were equally 
near and dear to us, and from whom, though sepa- 
rated for a season, we shall not be long. Even now 
I feel them nearer to me as I read what I then wrote, 
and it is my greatest happiness that, day by day, this 
sense of their nearness increases. It is not space or 
time that separates us, but the world and worldly af- 
fections, and as these under God's blessing lose their 
hold upon my heart, I feel that, even before death, 
I may almost embrace them there — through the 
atonement of my blessed Saviour I doubt not. 

In pvitting forth this work, I have done it, partly 
as a debt to my profession, from which my more 
worldly occupations separate me, but mainly in the 
hope that it will react upon myself, and make me 
what I would teach others to be. 

Accept it, then, as a pledge alike of my future reso- 
lutions and my present affection, from 

Your aflPectionate nephew, 

J. McV. . 

Monday, 24</i June, 1835. 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 35 

The following is from a late prominent clergyman 
of a neighboring city. It tells its own story, and 
gives evidence of fruit that the young "country 
clero;vman," as for convenience he committed to 
writing the prayerful outpourings of his own thank- 
ftil heart, could then have little imagined. 

Philadelphia, October 29, 1847. 

Dear Doctor, — I purchased some time ago "De- 
votions, etc.," by a " Country Clergyman," but never 
knew that I was indebted to you for this valuable- 
little work. I ascertained the fact that you were its 
author during my recent visit to New York. I in- 
tended, while there, to express to you my thanks, and 
to tell you how excellent and useful I find it. I can 
truly say that it seems to me to be the very best 
manual of family prayers I have ever used. Dear 
Doctor, if your heart dictated those devotions, as I 
am sure it did, you must know indeed ' how to pray.' 
And surely you have helped me greatly in learn- 
ing that important and precious duty. The private 
prayers are delightful. They suit my poor self ex- 
actly. In my family, too, I find them everything I 
could wish. I shall often think of you now while 
on my knees before God, and send up a supplication, 
for his blessing to attend you. I frequently think of 
your kindness to me, many years ago, at a trying 
period of my life, when I needed friends. You have 
perhaps forgotten what you did to me so kindly, but 
I have not, and God Almighty has not, and now you. 
have laid me under a new obligation. 



36 LIFE OF JOHN lifOVICKAR. 

With every sentiment of respect and attach- 
ment, I am, most esteemed sir, 

Your friend and brother, 

H. W. DUCACHET. 

In 1814, memoranda of moneys received from his 
parishioners and neighbors for the relief of the Niag- 
ara frontiers, reminds us that the War of 1812 was 
then pressing heavily upon the country, and involving 
all, if not in its horrors, at least in its calls for charity. 

The next year, however, brought peace, and the 
news found its way to the Hyde Park circle, not in a 
couple of minutes by telegraph, as it would now, but 
through the following characteristic letter from my 
father's eldest brother, and, as it was mid-winter, 
probably taking at least twenty-four hours to reach 
its destination of eighty miles. 

New York, Sunday, February 12, 1815. 

Dear John, — Peace : in this small word is com- 
prised all that I have to tell you. It is uttered by 
every tongue in the tone of exultation and gladness. 
The only salutation of friends this day has been, joy, 
peace, and most sincerely and heartily do I congratu- 
late you on the restoration of its blessings to our- 
selves, our families, and our land at this period, when 
we had but tasted the bitter calamities of war. Mr. 
Carrol, the messenger and bearer of the treaty, ar- 
rived in town from the Hook between eight and nine 
last evening. The night was dark and gloomy, and 
most persons had retired to their firesides for the 
evening, whence they were roused by distant .and 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 37 

repeated huzzas. The word " peace " passed from 
mouth to moiith and from street to street. Instantly 
the streets blazed with lights in the windows and boys 
bearing torches. The hour was forgotten, and friends 
ran from house to house pouring forth congratulations 
and joy, and this scene lasted till midnight. I am 
not yet sobered enough to express my feelings coher- 
ently. Again I repeat, joy, peace, and love to you 
and all friends at Hyde Park. 

Your affectionate brother,. 

Akch. McVickab. 

The pastoral work of the remaining years of paro- 
chial duty at Hyde Park afford but little of special in- 
terest. It would seem to have been earnest, system- 
atic, and conducted on wide and generous principles. 
We find him doing missionary work many miles back 
at Pine Plains ; corresponding witli Edward P. Liv- 
ingston respecting the erection of a church and the 
support of public services near Clermont ; writing to 
Chancellor Kent to obtain his official aid to check the 
unlicensed retailing of liquors ; and to Bishop Moore 
of Virginia, invoking his assistance in a general effort 
to put down dueling. Memoranda also show him to 
have been practically engaged in the first efforts to 
establish a charity for the relief of the deaf and dumb, 
and to have been deeply interested in Mr. Gallaudet 
and Mr. Clerc on their first arrival in this country. In 
his own parish we find, beside the Sunday-school, 
what was not at that time so common, a sewing-school 
of young people, and a society of ladies to relieve sick- 



38 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

ness and distress in the neighborhood. There was 
also " The Christian Association of Dutchess County," 
in which, \f not the founder, he was at least deeply 
interested. In an address before it in 1815 we find 
him taking that economic view • of social questions 
which seems to have been natural to his mind, and 
which, when his duties afterwards compelled that di- 
rection, made him one of the first political economists 
of his day. 

" In this country," he says, " wretchedness is but 
the shadow of vice. The demand for labor is so great 
and the wages of it so high that the means of com- 
fortable subsistence are never wanting to the indus- 
trious and the sober. The money spent for spirits 
needlessly drunk in this neighborhood would support 
its poor twice over. It is the heaviest tax we pay, 
and costs the country more than all its other taxes 
beside. It cuts off its industry, weakens its strength, 
debases its morals, corrupts its principles, and, in the 
loss of virtue, paves the way for loss of liberty." 

But especially did my father interest himself in 
efforts to elevate the social condition of the blacks of 
his neighborhood, a large and more or less degraded 
class, some free, and some, as we have seen, still in 
partial bondage. In 1816 he formed and put in opera- 
tion a systematic plan for their improvement, which 
seems so happy in its conception, and so well fitted 
to the present needs of many Southern parishes, that 
we reffret that its length forbids its insertion here. 
The use of the district school-house and its teacher 
was secured for Sundays and certain week-day even- 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 39 

ings. A Sunday-school and Bible Society was then 
formed, to embrace all, if possible, from heads of fami- 
lies to youngest children. To learn to read the Bible 
was the professed object of the first, to supply every 
member of the society with a Bible the object of the 
second. The address closes in these words : " Of 
this society your wives and children may all become 
members, and I hope to see it excite among you all 
a sense of self-respect, a feeling of religion, and a de- 
sire of improvement which will make you an example 
to the neighborhood. One Sunday afternoon in every 
month I will meet you in this church, and do what I 
can to encourage and support all your good endeav- 
ors, and advise and direct you, as I do now, like a 
true and sincere friend." 

Among the pleasant excursions of this period was 
a drive to the hospitable mansion of Governor Jay 
at Bedford, whose son had married my father's 
younger sister. On one of these occasions, writing to 
Miss Bard, he says, " Through a day that seemed to 
partake of the four seasons, we pushed on our way 
so cheerily as to drink tea at Governor Jay's. . It re- 
quired, I believe, all the love of kind friends to be glad 
to see our carriage load approach, as the house was 
brimful before our arrival. My comfort was that our 
family was but a drop in the bucket, so I made my- 
self quite easy on that score. Bating this little dif- 
ficulty, of packing us by night and seating us by day, 
our visit proved a very agreeable one, and the theo- 
logical discussions to which Mr. and Mrs. G. gave 
rise roused Governor Jay to all his early energy. 



40 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

He was well acquainted, as you know, with old Lady 
Huntington in Bath in 1783, and heard from her 
many anecdotes of the geniuses of Queen Anne's 
reign, with whom she was intimate. Addison, ac- 
cording to her, was a scholar, and a gentleman, and 
a Christian ; Pope was a mere poet, testy and not 
pleasing in society ; Bolingbroke was the superior of 
them all in talent, manners, and conversation. 

" We had some talk, also, about the Rev. Dr. Pe- 
ters, whom I met in London in 1805. At the com- 
mencement of the Revolution he was mobbed in 
Connecticut for his Tory principles. He fled to 
Boston, and thence to England. He was then em- 
ployed by Lord North to give information relative 
to this country, and was subsequently chosen Bishop 
of Vermont, but the Bishop of London declined to 
consecrate him, it was said, merely from the want of 
proper testimonials. He afterwards became a violent 
Oppositionist. 

" The Governor certainly fails, but it is an unper- 
ceived decay, and few seem either better prepared or 
more willing to depart." 

In 1816, the Rev. Timothy Clowes, Rector of St. 
Peter's, Albany, was presented for trial on charges 
affecting Church discipline. In the Convention of 
that year, an effort was made to dismiss the present- 
ment, but failed on the ground that the Convention 
had no jurisdiction in the matter. The present- 
ment, therefore, was allowed to take its course, and 
my father found himself one of the selected members 
of the court, — a serious and responsible position for so 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 41 

young a man. There is no necessity to enter here into 
the merits of this case, long since buried in the past. 
The following letter, however, is of interest, as giv- 
ing a cptemporary view of the procC'Cclings. It is 
addressed to Miss Bard, who was then in Burlington, 
N. J. 

The Cottage, 23d Juli/, 1817. 

My dear Aunt, — I suppose, ere this, I have 
been scolded by you, mentally, a dozen times, for 
my long silence, but if so, it has been unjustly be- 
stowed. I left home Avith the expectation of a week's 
absence, but instead of one, I was detained near 
four weeks in as steady occupation as I ever had. 
I was recorder of the board, and generally wrote 
down twenty folio pages of testimony every day. 
We always met at nine o'clock and sat till two ; 
adjourned for an hour and generally continued to do 
business until six or seven in the evenino;. Knowino; 
Eliza to be anxious, and as the only relief in my 
power to my protracted return, I resolved not to 
let one post pass without a letter, which I was 
obliged to write by being in a little before the board 
assembled, and catching every minute I could through 
the day from delay of witnesses, or any other cir- 
cumstance. The early morning, I devoted to ex- 
ercise, to enable me to bear the application and 
confinement of the day. Mr. Jarvis we made presi- 
dent. He proposed our being room-mates. I be- 
lieve I received the proposition rather coolly. I 
was very soon, however, well pleased with the ar- 
rangement, finding him an amiable, unassuming, well 



42 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

instructed companion. As a young man he deserves 
to be called learned, and we differ just enough to 
keep up the spirit of our argument. He is a little 
more attached to forms than I am, but mixes up 
with them the spirit, I believe, of unaffected piety. 

Of the other members of the board it is not neces- 
sary to say much. 

We found Mr. Clowes disposed to throw every 
impediment in the way of our proceeding. I told 
him candidly at first, that the business had been too 
long delayed by these trifling objections, and that I 
had come up with one settled resolution in the 
business, and that was to bring it to a conclusion — 
if innocent to acquit, if guilty to condemn him. We 
had before us between forty and fifty witnesses, — in 
fact all his principal friends and all his great oppo- 
nents. It has been as thorough a revolution in the 
affairs of the Church as the French one was in the 
State. The wealthy and respectable have been put 
out and the rabble brought in. The truth of the case 
seems to be this. Mr. Clowes on going there found 
this democratic spirit existing, and being not much of 
a gentleman, either in manners or feeling, he fell 
naturally into their society, and led on that spirit to 
serve his own interested purposes ; but these, when 
in power, had their own views in continuing there, 
and Mr. Clowes has fallen into the degraded situa- 
tion of their tool and instrument. Mr. Duer is on 
the side of the presenters ; Mr. Yates on the part 
of Mr. Clowes. It has been a very tedious business, 
but it has been impossible to shorten it. Such 



PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 43 

■warmth of public feeling existed that -the board were 
forced, in order to satisfy both parties, to listen to 
everything that could be brought forward in rela- 
tion to it. The senate chamber in the capitol, in 
which we sat, was in general crowded with auditors. 
Clowes has the faculty of making warm personal 
fi'iends ; some middle-aged men sat there who wept 
like children when anything unfavorable to him ap- 
peared in evidence. . . . . 

Yours affectionately, 

John McVickar. 

The result of this trial was unfavorable to Mr. 
Clowes, and he was suspended from the ministry. 

The two room-mates thus accidentally thrown to- 
gether during an ecclesiastical trial at Albany, and 
both destined to do good work in their different 
spheres, were soon again, as we shall see, to cross 
each other's path. 

In the mean time, an intimacy, if not a friendship, 
grew up between them, and a correspondence com- 
menced, which, on one side at least, was started in 
Latin. 



CHAPTER IV. 

CHANGE FROM PASTOEAL TO ACADEMIC DUTIES: 1817. 

TN the year 1817 the Rev. Dr. Bowden, Professor 
-*- of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy in Columbia 
College, died. My father's name was soon mentioned 
in connection with the vacant professorship. The 
matter is thus touched upon in Miss Bard's diary : — 
^^ August 8th. — I have this day received a great 
shock, though the circumstances that occasioned it 
may be designed by a wise Providence ultimately for 
our good. Dr. Bowden, one of the professors of tjie 
college, is dead, and some of Mr. McVickar's friends 
think, if he would accept the station, it could be pro- 
cured for him. He has been written to on the sub- 
ject and I am waiting in the most painful anxiety to 
know the result. He will do what he considers his 
duty, and what will be best for the interests and 
happiness of his family, and my dear brother will 
urge him to that effect. But O, what a blow to his 
and my sister's happiness, and, indeed, to all our fam- 
ilies, to have him and their beloved daughter sepa- 
rated from them. And what shall I do, or who shall 
I part from ? ' Why art thou so full of heaviness, 
O my soul, and why art thou so disquieted within me. 
Put thy trust in God.' " 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 45 

The following few lines from one with whom my 
father was then quite intimate, would seem to lead to 
the conclusion that he did not interest himself much 
in the result : — 

New York, September 5, 1817. 
Dear Sir, — .... We have parties running very 
high here respecting the vacant professorship in 
Columbia College. I hope to talk over this and other 
matters with you ere long under your own vine and 
fig-tree, which I am happy to learn you have de- 
termined not to abandon ; for, you may rely upon it, 
you are happier and more useful where you are than 
if you were, professor of moral philosophy, rhetoric, 
and belles-letters, etc., etc., in Columbia College. 
Believe me, my dear sir. 

Yours most respectfully, 

Clement C. Moore. 

The fact that parties were running very high re- 
specting this professorship was unfortunately true, 
and still more unfortunate was it that Mr. McVick- 
ar's Albany room-mate, Mr. Jarvis, afterwards the 
learned historian, between whom and my father 
quite an intimacy, as we have seen, had sprung up, 
should be his chief rival. But so it was, and, as is 
often the case, the confident one was disappointed, the 
careless one successful. The following letter from 
Mr. Jarvis, though long, is given entire, as being in 
every way interesting, showing the friendly spirit 
between two of the rival candidates, and also as 
markedly characteristic of the future Church histo- 



46 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

rian. It seems to have been in reply to one from 
my father, m Latin, which is fair evidence that the 
parochial work of the last six years had not broken 
up the old habits of systematic study : — 

Bloomingdale, September 25, 1817. 

My dear Sir, — - 1 have too much to say and 
too little time to say it in to reply to your letter in 
the same language. My thoughts are so impatient 
to be with you that they choose the lightest and most 
rapid vehicle, and will not wait for the more dignified, 
slow, and solemn pace of the old Roman state coach. 
You kindly inquire about my health, my family, my 
studies, and the books I have read — at least you 
suggest them as topics of correspondence. As to the 
last you mention, ' de libris imprimendis,' ^ it does 
not come within the circle of my acts or even of my 
projects. Since my return my time has been much 
occupied by business, which had suffered some de- 
rangement from my long absence, and by parochial 
duties which have been more than ordinarily numer- 
ous. I have made out, however, to read one book 
of Quintilian, Longinus, a portion of Lord Kames, 
and some other critical Avorks, and am at present 
examining, or rather commencing an examination of 
the Chronology of Syncellus, the Chronicon Paschale, 
Eusebius, and Josephus, as compared with the Samar- 
itan, Greek, and Hebrew Bibles, and the modern 
system of Usher, Blair, and others. For this purpose 
I have been making chronological notes from Jose- 
phus, and have proceeded as far as the Ninth Book, 
1 Of publishing. 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 47 

and I think it very evident that his chronology has 
been corrupted, and that it must have been originally 
the same as what now appears in our Hebrew copies. 
These, with Riley's narrative and the Reviews, make 
up the total ' de libris legendis.' With respect to 
the Church, I can say but little, as I have seen 
scarcely any of the clergy since my return. They 
have been so much out of town, that Mr. Milnor 
told me he had been called upon to perform the 
parochial duties of Trinity, not one of the clergy of 
that parish being in the city. What shall I say to 
you with regard to the college? On Monday Dr. 
Bard favored me with a visit and informed me that 
you are a candidate for the vacant professorship. 
This information, I must confess, gave me some pain, 
because it places me in a situation which I hoped 
never to have been in with regard to you. Early this 
month one of the trustees asked' my permission to 
nominate me, to which I assented, and I find that 
my name is publicly mentioned. Mr. Bristed has 
been and still is veiy active in soliciting votes, and 
the warmest of his supporters, I understand, is youi 
friend Clement Moore. I concluded, therefore, that 
he also could not have known of your wishes. For 
myself, I have not taken any step to secure an elec- 
tion, nor shall I stoop to solicit a single vote. How- 
ever the matter may terminate, my dear sir, I hope 
and trust that it will produce no difference in our 
feelings of friendship so happily begun. It pains me, 
indeed, to think that my gain should ever be your 
loss, and I most heartily wish that some course could 



48 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

be adopted which vfould bring us together in the 
same institution, where I am sure we should be 
brothers. I do not see that after matters have gone 
thus far, I can well retreat consistently with a proper 
degree of self-respect. Notwithstanding all Bristed's 
exertions, I have reason to believe that I should com- 
mand a superiority of votes. . How it will be now I 
know not. In a contention with you victory will be 
almost as bad as defeat. But let me turn from this 
subject and inquire, in my turn, ' de tuis, de salute 
tua, de studiis, de libris legendis.' Whatever con- 
cerns you, be assured, my good friend, will always be 
a subject of interest to me, and you can never write 
without conferring a most sensible pleasure upon 
Your affectionate friend and brother, 

Samuel F. Jarvis. 
Eev. Mr. McViokar. 

The following from Bishop Hobart shows that 
others felt the difficulty of two such candidates even 
more than the candidates themselves : — 

New York, October 7, 1817. 

My dear Sir, — At the request of Dr. Bard I 
took much pleasure in nominating you yesterday at 
the board of trustees, for the vacant professorship, but 
felt it my duty at the same time to state that I did 
not intend thereby to express a preference for you 
over Mr. Jarvis, who was also nominated by Mr. Wil- 
liam Johnson. My situation is an embarrassing one, 
but I must endeavor to do what on the whole seems 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 49 

best. Be assured, however, that whatever may be 
the issue of this matter you have the sincere esteem 

Of your friend, 

J. H. HOBART. 
Kev. Mr. McVickar. 

The result of the election is best told in extracts 
from a home letter, where the sanguine hopefulness 
of the mother's disposition is strongly, not to say 
quaintly, exhibited : — 

New York, November 3, 1817, 11 a. m. 

My dear Son, — The important question is now 
agitating at the college, whether you shall obtain 
the professorship or no. Our hopes stand high, and 
a fcAv hours will decide whether they were well 
founded or not, but so sanguine have I been that 
I have engao-ed a woman to clean the house. 

Dr. Bard, Judge Johnston, and Frank are to 
dine with us to-day. It will look somewhat like a 
dinner to celebrate your election, but it was purely 
accidental and without design ; yet should you gain it 
I dare say they will have no objection to drinking a 
bumper to your health, long life, and usefulness in it; 
and in which I shall sincerely join them, if not in the 
bumper, yet in all the good wishes for your health 
and prosperity 

Judge Livingston has this minute brought the re- 
sult of the election to me with congratulations on your 
success. The vote \<^as taken, when it stood thus : 8 
for you, 7 for Bristed, and 4 for Mr. Jarvis ; the sec- 
ond, 13 for you, 6 for Bristed, and 2 for Mr. Jarvis. 



60 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

. . . Dr. Bard has just been In expressing his joy 
at your election, but was unable to dine with us, as 
he was sent express for to Mr. King on Long Island, 

who is ill I have been so often broken in upon 

the last hour, and so many things occupy my mind, 
that I know not hardly what I write, and lest I 
should become unintelligible I conclude, 
Your ever affectionate mother, 

A. McVlCKAR. 

This event colored the whole future of my fa- 
ther's life. It removed him, almost unwillingly, from 
country scenes and pastoral duty, and threw him, 
in the prime of early manhood, into the centre of the 
intellectual thought of the young but growing Amer- 
ican metropolis, as an instructor of its youth and a 
companion of its maturer minds. We cannot, how- 
ever, pass into this new and apparently more im- 
portant period, without first making an effort to show 
the depth of the impression made upon his character 
by those subtle forces of a parochial and social circle, 
like that of Hyde Park, exercising their influence 
during the first six years of ministerial and married 
life. Fortunately the " Domestic Narrative of the 
Life of Dr. Bard," written by him, now out of print, 
enables me to do this, not directly, but by the stronger 
testimony of inference. I therefore, without hesita- 
tion, avail myself freely of it. 

" In the year 1817, the first breach was made in 
the family circle at Hyde Park, by the removal of 
the writer of the present memoir, with his family, to 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 51 

New York, upon being chosen to a professorship in 
the college at which he was educated. 

" How actively Dr. Bard labored in its procurement 
is gratefully remembered by one who already owed 
to him more than gratitude could repay. The influ- 
ence he was able to exert at so advanced an age, and 
after twenty years of retirement, affords a strong 
proof of mental vigor. 

" An extract from a letter to his wife, while this 
matter was pending, is an evidence of his exertions 
and feelings on this occasion, while it makes public 
a debt of gratitude which the author is proud to ac- 
knowledge. 

"New Yohk, September 1, 1817. 

" My dear Mary, — I have been working with all 
my might for that in which, now that there is some 
chance of success, I begin to be almost afraid I shall 
succeed ; but I comfort myself, and I hope the con- 
sideration will comfort you, that I verily believe it 
will contribute to the general happiness and interests 
of our family. Hitherto, my dear wife, we have 
been as happy in our retirement as we could ever 
hope to be ; and in the health and character of our 
children, and the promise of our grandchildren, have 
reaped an ample reward for all our exertions. But 
our family has now become so numerous that, like 
the bees, we must be content to swarm ; and, like 
them, I am striving to furnish the young colony with 
a king and queen, who shall lead them forth, and 
establish them in their new habitations : nor can I 
think of any plan upon which we can do this with so 



52 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAK 

little deprivation to ourselves, and so much benefit 
to our children. We shall not lose them alto- 
gether ; we shall still enjoy their society in summer, 
when our pastor will pray with us, and preach for 
us, and administer to us all the consolations of re- 
ligion, and foster his little church, and do good to his 
old friends as heretofore. This I look to for my pay, 
nor will I abate him one jot of it. In the spring, too, 
we can visit them ; and once a week we shall expect 
the boat, or the post, with that kind of anxiety which 
gives a spur to our wishes, and, like a good appetite, 
seasons our enjoyments. 

" In short, my dearest friend, I think it my duty ; 
and if it please God to bless my endeavors, why then 
we must submit to any privations to which it may 
subject us : but if it fail, why then I shall firmly be- 
lieve it ought to fail ; and we shall all be equally 
content and happy without it. 

Yours affectionately, S. B. 

'■'■ That argument and reflection should be necessary 
to reconcile those concerned to a change so benefi- 
cial, in a worldly point of view, is the strongest 
proof of the degree of that family union and happi- 
ness of which it required the sacrifice ; and now that 
death and removal have so thinned its ranks and dis- 
persed its members, that it appears but as a dream 
of an earlier and happier state, it may be allowed 
to one who participated largely in its pleasures, 
to recall a few touches of a picture of domestic felic- 
ity, rarely clouded by sorrow ; and still more rarely, 
by want of sympathy or affection. 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 53 

" Although the noble mansion at Hyde Park formed 
the central point of attraction for children, grand- 
children, and kindred, still each member of the cir- 
cle, claiming on all festive occasions their turn of 
entertainment, diffused and multiplied the sources of 
an innocent hilarity which none more than Dr. Bard 
enjoyed or promoted. 

" Among these he seemed especially to enjoy the 
simple entertainments of the parsonage, as looking 
round on a scene of happiness more peculiarly of his 
own creation : and I think I see him yet, with a coun- 
tenance beaming pleasure, praising the productions of 
the children, encouraging the arrangements of their 
parents, or joining in the chorus of some little song 
prepared for the occasion. This was sometimes 
made the vehicle of sentiments which brought tears 
into his eyes. A trifle of that kind which has been 
preserved, will indicate, at least, the feelings of love 
and veneration which he excited. 

" Hail to the sire, that in calmness reposes. 

Circled by those whom liis kindness has blessed j 
Round him, as life with its evening closes, 
He sinks in the arms of affection to rest. 

On his dear and reverend head. 

Heaven long its blessings shed. 
His presence to bless ns, example to mend ; 

While loud the Hudson banks 

Echo our grateful thanks, 
Health to our father, companion and friend ! 

" Hail to the sage, who, when old age advances. 
Crowns in the shade of retirement his days ; 
Ended his full task, his eye upward glances, 
Waiting the meed of his great Master's praise. 



54 . LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

Heaven long the blessing spare, 

Of his kind and watchful care ; 
"Wisdom to guide us, and skill to defend : 

While loud the Hudson banks 

Echo our grateful thanks. 
Health to our father, physician, and friend ! 

" Hail to the stem, from which we're descended. 
Or grafted, like scions, on its evergreen root ; 
Eotind it we cling, by its branches defended, 
Eest in its shadow, and feed on its fruit. 

Long may that root be fed, 

Far may its branches spread ; 
Flourish in beauty, with fruitfulness bend ; 

While to the Hudson banks 

Echo our grateful thanks. 
Health to our father, our guardian and friend ! 

"Cottage, December 31, 1816.^ 

" Among the partakers in these rural festivities, and 
one whose presence always gave them a peculiar in- 
terest, was the venerable Mrs. Barton, a lady whose 
warm attachment to Dr. and Mrs. Bard, through a 
long life, demands some passing record, — a tribute 
now doubly due, since the shock of their united 
death seemed to break the last feeble thread which 
detained her in this state of mortality ; and within a 
few days she followed them at the advanced age of 
ninety years, neither overcome by disease, nor broken 
down by infirmity. Mrs. Barton was aunt both to 
Dr. and Mrs. Bard, being sister to Dr. De Norman- 
die, and widow to th6 friend and brother-in-law of 
our eminent countryman, David Rittenhouse. 

" At the period to which the preceding poetry re- 
1 J. McVickar. 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 55 

fers, she had attained the age of eighty-seven years. 
Independent in her occupations, actively and benev- 
olently employed, participating in all family festivi- 
ties, and with a tremulous though sweet voice 
(which, in youth, had gained her the title of the 
' American Nightingale '), leading at the supper 
table a united chorus, in which the voices of four 
successive generations emulously contended. As a 
trait of superior character, of a mind that could rise 
above the besetting weakness of old age, I subjoin 
the following letter, conveying to a niece one half 
her fortune. 

" Hyde Park, December 9, 1803. 

" Dear Sally, — I beg your acceptance of the in- 
closed bond, dated on the day which closed the 
allotted time of man's life, three-score years and ten ; 
and, although I have a proper sense of the great 
blessings I enjoy of health and understanding, yet I 
am sensible of my own infirmities, and would not 
leave to chance, or the caprice of old age, the power 
of altering my purpose of seeing you, before I die, in 
some measure independent. I beg you will make 
me no answer to this letter, as it is far greater happi- 
ness to me that I have this little to give, than it can 
possibly be for you to receive it ; and I am well con- 
vinced, from your temper and disposition, that, were 
the case reversed, you would have the same senti- 
ments. To make you perfectly easy, be assured I 
am not the poorer by parting with this sum : it is 
nothino; more than shiftino- it from one hand to the 
other ; and I still retain more than double the in- 



56 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

come I ever spent upon myself, at any period of my 
life. God bless you, my dear niece ; and that you 
may long live to enjoy every happiness this frail life 
can bestow, is the sincere prayer of 
" Your affectionate aunt, 

" S. Barton. ' 

" This rare union of qualities, alike estimable and 
amiable, produced their corresponding affections, re- 
spect and love, in all around her ; which, added to 
the natural emotion excited by so advanced an age, 
amounted, in the younger members of the family, to 
a feeling almost of veneration. 

" Among other remembrances placed in my hands, 
of this happy family society, and which are now val- 
ued, like other relics, not for what they are, but for 
what they recall, is the following little address to 
Mrs, Barton, on the celebration of her eighty-eighth 
birthday. 

' When years to worth, to worth when wisdom 's joined. 
Instinctive springs the homage of the mind : 
But when religion, from her throne above, 
Crowns that assemblage in a friend we love. 
Gilding life's close with faith's unfading ray, 
Like the calm sunset of a summer's day ; 
'Tis then we think, that Heaven in kindness shows 
How age may sink, 'mid blessings, to repose ; 
How short the passage that to faith is given, 
Prom bliss on earth to higher bliss in heaven. 
Long may that bliss be thine, dear aunt, to see 
Encircling friends, who love and copy thee : 
Learning from thee to blend, in gentle truth. 
The voice of wisdom with the charm of youth ; 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 57 

And, when thy spirit bursts from bonds of clay, 
To seek the sunshine of a brighter day, 
Then may they learn how smooth the bed of death 
To a calm conscience, and a Christian faith. 

"December 8, 181 8.1 

" It may not be uninteresting to add, that the pious 
wish with which the above closes, was realized in no 
common degree ; gently sinking in the possession of 
all her faculties, and for two days hourly expecting 
dissolution, her time and thoughts were occupied 
with making it a lesson to her young relatives who 
crowded around her dying bed, giving to most of 
them some appropriate memorial of the scene be- 
fore them, — some prayer, or form of devotion (of 
which her desk contained many, either composed or 
transcribed by herself), and receiving with them 
the last consolations of religion, — to them the com- 
mencement, to her the termination of the Christian 
race. 

" The last winter of Dr. Bard's life was passed by 
him in more than usual enjoyment. Preceded by a 
long and satisfactory visit to his daughter in town, it 
rolled rapidly by in his usual interchange of study 
and amusement. Engaged in preparing an enlarged 
edition of his chief medical work, he found no time 
to hang heavy on his hands ; and it was difficult to 
say from which of his varied employments, whether 
of labor or amusement, he derived the greatest 
pleasure." 

Having carried the reader thus far in the closing 
1 J. McVickar. 



68 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

scenes of this Hyde Park circle, it will not be taken 
amiss if there is here added, from the same pen, the 
few concluding lines which chronicle the end. 

" In the month of May, 1821, while preparing for 
the annual spring visit to the city, Mrs. Bard was 
attacked with a pleuritic affection ; which, after a 
few days, gave evidence of a fatal termination. Dr. 
Bard, though laboring under a similar attack, would 
not be separated from her, but continued to be, as 
formerly, her companion, nurse, and physician. Such 
a long and affectionate union as theirs had been, 
had early excited the wish, the wish the prayer, and 
the prayer the expectation, that in death they were 
not to be divided. What was thus both wished for, 
and expected, had become, it seems, the subject of 
their sleeping thoughts ; and a remarkable dream of 
Mrs. Bard's to this effect was now remembered, and 
repeated by her husband, with feelings not of super- 
stition, but pleasing anticipation. 

*' The last effort of his pen was to give comfort to 
those who were absent. This letter, which con- 
veyed to his daughter the first intimation of dan- 
ger, brought her to her paternal home a few hours 
too late to receive a mother's blessing, but in time 
to spend a few short ones of affectionate intercourse 
with her dying father. It was passed with calm- 
ness by both ; indeed, there was no room for sorrow 
in such a tranquil, peaceful departure. His calm, 
but affectionate inquiries about absent friends, his 
rational directions as to future arrangements, and his 
freedom from all perturbation of spirit, were so for- 



CHANGE OF DUTIES. 59 

eign to the conception of departing humanity, that 
the feehngs could not reahze it, — there were in it 
no images of grief from which imagination might 
draw her pattern. 

" Under these circumstances, not of stoical but 
Christian composure, he sank to rest at five o'clock 
in the moi'ning of the 24th May, in the eightieth 
year of his age, twenty-four hours after the death of 
his wife ! A common grave received their remains. 

" Their affectionate relative, Mrs. Barton, sank 
under the bereavement, and within a few days joined 
them in the land of rest 

" Of that which has been the great aim of the 
author, the display of private character, he has 
spoken confidently, because he knew intimately ; 
and in the varied relations of social and domestic 
life, having proposed him as a model to himself, he 
is not afraid to hold him up to others as an example 
worthy of imitation." 

Whatever may be thought of this picture, it is 
certainly very unlike anything of the present day, 
and as such, like some portrait of the old masters, 
will be gazed upon with interest. But may I not 
claim more for it ? Is there not in it a something 
which the families of this restless generation, with- 
out knowing exactly what it is they lack, are con- 
stantly sighing after? Repose of mind, united with a 
pervading faith, intellectual activity, and general 
cheerfulness, which, if we picture to ourselves at all, 
seems more what we are hoping for in heaven, than 
a condition possible on earth. Yet here it was, not 



60 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

only on the earth, but on the familiar banks of the 
Hudson River, and attained, too, at a very economic 
expenditure of money. One of the worst quarrels 
occurring in this family circle, and which lasted 
nearly a week, arose from sending a party home 
from the mansion-house, on a stormy night, in the 
farm wagon instead of in the family coach, which had 
only lately been freshly painted. This was consid- 
ered a pitch of meanness not easily forgiven, and a 
heavy sacrifice to the muses in the shape of poetical 
letters back and forth was necessary before tranquil- 
lity was restored. It may not be easy to analyze a 
family's happiness, but when we have the character 
of their faith, their occupations, pleasures, causes of 
quarrel, and modes of peace-making, the elements of 
a fair judgment are in our hand. Then by placing 
these alongside our own and comparing the two, we 
approach at least, that which must have a distinct 
existence as truth, the formula of earthly happiness. 



CHAPTER V. 

PROFESSIONAL DUTIES : 18X7-1824. 

rriHE close of the year 1817 found my father and 
-^ his family, of which Miss Bard was now an 
acknowledged member, settled in New York city. 
Their residence at that time was in the old college 
building at the foot of Park Place, the wings — to one 
of which they afterwards removed — being then in 
course of erection. " Comfortable but not fashion- 
able," are the epithets used in writing to absent 
friends. In fact, it must at that time have been but 
a dreary looking place, especially to those fresh from 
the beauties of the country and of Hyde Park. The 
larger trees of the college green, planted by Dr. Bard, 
were indeed there, but the space between the buildings 
and College Place was filled with small wooden houses 
occupied by a low class of the colored population of the 
city. The terraces and plantings of after years, and 
the fine private residences of College Place, had not 
yet made their appearance. It was then almost what 
the worst surroundings of Central Park are at present. 
It is now, having been in the mean time one of the 
most beautiful and fashionable neighborhoods of this 
changeable city, given over entirely to the require- 
ments of commerce, and only here and there a forlorn 



62 LIFE OF JOHN AI^VICKAR. 

house hides its diminished head amid towering stores. 
This oldest of the college buildings was erected and 
first occupied in 1760. It was then in the country, 
and is thus described by a traveller of the day : " The 
building forms one side of a quadrangle fronting 
Hudson's River, and will be the most beautifully 
situated of any college, I believe, in the world." 
This was its still earlier phase, and illustrates the 
wonderful growth of New York city. A hundred 
years sees one and the same spot the centre of rural 
beauty, of suburban nuisances, of fashion, and of 
commerce. 

The chair to which my father was appointed in 
Columbia College M^as that of " Moral Philosophy, 
Rhetoric, and Belles-lettres." He entered at once 
upon his duties, being then in his thirty-first year and 
youthful in appearance. 

" Well I remember," says Dr. Johnson in the dis- 
course already quoted from, " the youthful professor, 
with his dark hair, his quick glance, his brusque 
manner, as he was introduced to us, the collegians in 
the chapel, and how we found fault with him for his 
youthful look." 

This youthfulness of appearance must have been 
so decided as to be, at that time, almost an annoy- 
ance. It brought upon him, at the very first meet- 
ing of the college board, the somewhat embarrassing 
question from the venerable Dr. Wilson, " Pray, Mr. 
McVickar, how old are you ? " But the ready reply, 
" Between thirty and forty," silenced such questions 
for the future, and proved that neither years nor wit 
were wan tin 2:. 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 63 

This must have been a year of hard work to the 
young professor in the preparation of his different 
courses of lectures, and yet, with that characteristic 
boldness, and forgetfulness of self in all matters of 
duty, which ever characterized him, he did not hesi- 
tate the ensuing year to ask permission to enlarge 
the duties of his chair. He already identified him- 
self with the interests and reputation of the college, 
and art his urgent request the subjects of Intellectual 
Philosophy and Political Economy were, in 1818, 
without any extra emolument, added to his depart- 
ment. This was the first course of political econ- 
omy lectures established in any American college. 

But college duties, however onerous, were not 
allowed, from the very first, to shut out entirely those 
of his more sacred profession. In Grace and Trinity 
churches he often rendered assistance by preaching 
and otherwise, and if we may judge by the following 
lines from his mother the year before he came to the 
city, there must often have been the need : — 

" The bishop is still on his eastern tour through 
Connecticut. I hope this will be the last, and that 
they will select some one to preside over them, ex- 
clusively their own, as we are too much in want of 
his services ourselves. Unless we have aid from the 
country next Sunday we shall be obliged to shut two 
of our churches." 

On the 29th of January, 1818, he delivered an 
address in St. Paul's Chapel, before the New York 
Bible and Common Prayer Book Society, which was 
published by request. This was his first publication. 



64 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

It is not remarkable as a composition, and yet was 
probably effective from its simple directness. 

In another way, also, did my father keep up his 
professional tone of mind, though I have no reason 
to suppose that it was done for that purpose. He 
was in the habit of writing short lectures on some 
portion of Scripture, suitable to the day or season, 
for use at family worship. They were short, simple, 
very much to the point, and loving in tone. This 
was kept up for many years, and must have had its 
influence on both himself and others. 

The question respecting a regular course of theo- 
logical study for candidates for Holy Orders was then 
attracting considerable attention in the Church. The 
House of Bishops had lately put forth an authoritative 
course of reading for candidates. Mr. C. C Moore, 
the only son of the Bishop of New York, had given 
in trust, to meet the wants of this demand in the 
future, a large property on the outskirts of the city. 
The regents of the University of the State had also 
made propositions to Columbia College and Trinity 
Church respecting a new college on Staten Island, 
without theological restrictions respecting its Presi- 
dent, but with a theological school attached. Thus 
the whole subject, in all its bearings, was being forced 
upon the thinking minds of the Church. Bishop 
Hobart, though looking with interest upon the prop- 
osition of the regents, doubted their motives, and as 
far as personal inclination went, favored a diocesan 
seminary. The plan of a general seminary of the 
whole Church was, however, the most popular, and, as 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 65 

we know, was finally carried into successful operation : 
though many of the difficulties which Bishop Hobart 
foresaw have since been painfully realized. My 
father naturally took a deep interest in these ques- 
tions. When the general seminary was determined 
on, he threw himself with all cordiality into the car- 
rying out of the plan, and was himself chiefly in- 
strumental in the gathering; and endowment of its 
noble library, still his mind first turned to other plans 
in connection with the college of which he was a pro- 
fessor, 

I find among his papers of the year 1820 one 
entitled " Plan of Theological Professorship to be 
attached to Columbia and other colleges." The plan, 
which is first given in brief, is as follows : — 

" The endowment for the support of the professor 
to be created by donations from individuals attached 
to the Protestant Episcopal Church until it reaches a 
revenue of $2,500 per annum. 

" The appointment of the professor to rest with 
the Bishop of the Diocese of New York, subject to 
the approbation of the Board of Trustees. 

" The duties of the professor to be — 

" 1. A sub-graduate course of lectures on the evi- 
dences of revealed religion, to be delivered weekly 
to such of the classes as the trustees may see fit to 
appoint, of which course the president of the college 
to be visitor. 

" 2. A course of theological instruction confined to 
the students of divinity, in accordance with that pre- 
scribed by the canons of the Protestant Episcopal 
5 



66 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

Church. Of this course the Bishop and Standing 
Committee of the Diocese of New York to be vis- 
itors." 

A somewhat similar plan for a law professorship, 
drawn out two years later, shows the working, at that 
early period, of my father's mind towards that prin- 
ciple of a university which has now become so popu- 
lar. 

" As this law professorship," he writes, " will prob- 
ably serve as a precedent for connecting with the 
college other graduate courses of study, it requires 
consideration to place it under such guards that it 
may not interfere with the good order and discipline 
of the institution. 

" To prevent the degradation of the existing college 
course, the course of law should be based upon it, 
thus making the former necessary, this being re- 
garded as a graduate course, taking up the student 
where the sub-graduate one has left him. But though 
ostensibly intended for graduates of the college, it 
need not in practice be restricted to them 

" It is not sufficient that this lectureship be added 
to the college ; it must be ingrafted into it. It must 
be made part of a great whole so as to unite aptly 
with it, and have a common interest and common 
feelings." 

This fear of degradino; the sub-o;raduate course 
through unrestricted contact with professional lec- 
tures, and the importance of binding the latter to the 
college corporation by common interests and common 
feelings, sounds more like the experiences of 1870 
than the warning's of 1822. 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 67 

In a little bundle of scraps marked " Sweepings 
of my Portfolio, 1820," I find one entitled " Greek 

Epigram written in Miss H 's Album." The 

Greek is classical and shows the scholar, but I con- 
tent myself with the English version which accom- 
oanies it : — 

" Mary, to try my wit, a verse demands, 
And gives her album to my trembling hands. 
But guile befriends me where my wit is weak : 
To hide the faults her critic taste would seek 
I shade my dullness with a veil of Greek." 

This readiness to gratify others with a few lines of 
rhyme, which not unfrequently rose to poetic merit, 
was with my father quite proverbial. And though it 
must often have been something of a trial added to 
the exactions of a busy life, good-nature seldom, I 
might almost say, judging by the following incident, 
never failed. 

A young relative, a school-girl, sought him one day 
for an acrostic. She met him within the college 
green, cloak on arm and bag in hand, bound for the 
country. Seeing her look of disappointment, and 
drawing from her her errand, he gave into her charge 
his cloak and bag, and sitting down on the steps of a 
brother professor's house, wrote on the back of a let- 
ter, in a few moments' time, the desired lines, and 
then hurried on his way with, we cannot doubt, a 
light heart. A request for verses was nearly always 
put aside with the plea of want of time, but in spite 
of that the verses generally came. 

The summer vacation after Dr. Bard's death was 



68 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

passed by my father and his family at the residence 
of his brother-in-law, Judge Johnston, near Pough- 
keepsie. How it was spent the following portions of 
a letter to his mother gives us some idea. 

PouGHKEEPSiE, llth September, 1821. 

My dear Mothek, — .... On Saturday I 
got up a long wagon filled with straw and took a 
loadful of children out to a pond a few miles back 
from the river to fish, where we spent the day in 
high frolic. This is the only idle morning I have 
spent since I have been up. I am generally near 
five hours with my pen in my hand. About two 
o'clock I break off, take a dive in the river, which I 
find wonderfully refreshing, shave, dress, and am 
ready for our late dinner after three. The afternoon 
I always have my gig up and drive some one of our 
invalids eight or ten miles. Our evenings are en- 
livened with the organ and very pleasing singing, and 
I sleep sound at night so that for myself my vacation 
never passed happier nor more to the benefit of my 
health. 

Beside my weekly duties, I have preached every 
Sunday since I left town, and now have charge of 
Mr. Reed's church in his absence. I leave a space 
for iny wife, M'^hose warm and sincere expressions I 
know you love (as all do) to hear, and who puts as 
much in one of them as I can in a whole letter. 
Your affectionate son, 

John McVickae. 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 69 

He was then engaged on a memoir of his father-in- 
law, entitled, " A Domestic Narrative of the Life of 
Samuel Bard, M. D., LL. D.," which was published 
the next spring, and from which quotations have 
already been made in these pages. In the short 
prefatory remarks he says : — 

" The following narrative was drawn up last sum- 
mer, during the leisure of a short vacation from aca- 
demical duties, with a view simply to preserve and 
arrange the fading recollections of a highly valued 
fi'iendship. It is now made public, partly fi'om the 
interest taken in its subject by a large circle of per- 
sonal friends, but chiefly from the hope that the de- 
lineation of Dr. Bard's character, as displayed in the 
events of his life, may lead others, and especially the 
young of that profession of which he was an orna- 
ment, to tread in his footsteps — to pursue worldly 
success by exertion, by perseverance, and by the con- 
scientious discharge of professional duty ; and to seek 
for happiness in the exercise of the benevolent and 
social affections, under the control and guidance of 
religion. 

Col. College, March 30, 1822. 

A few notices from those whose opinions in that 
day carried weight will show how this his first liter- 
ary work was received. 

Governor Jay, then an old man, writes in that 
staid style which especially belonged to him, and 
somewhat to his fjeneration : — 



70 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Bedfokd, Westchester Co., N. Y., 28<A July, 1822. 

Dear Sir, — I have received, and we, have all 
read, your Life of the late Dr. Bard. Accept my 
thanks for this interesting work. It appears to have 
done justice to the merits of that worthy gentleman, 
and in a style and manner reputable to the author. 
With the best wishes for your and Mrs. McVickar's 
health and welfare, I am, dear sir. 

Your obliged and obedient servant, 

John Jay. 

Mr. William Moore, a valued friend and relative, 
says : — 

" Those who can read your Life of Dr. Bard with- 
out being made thereby the wiser and the better, 
might as well never have been taught to read. You 
have erected for him a monument that says in strong 
terms to every person who sees it, ' Go thou and do 
likewise.' " 

And a well known physician of New York, Dr. A. 
H. Stephens, writes : — 

"To say nothing of its value in other respects, 
I am determined that it shall be the first book I 
shall place in the hands of those whose studies in 
medicine are directed by your obliged and humble 
servant." 

We close this subject with a letter of greater 
length, from one, who, however necessarily partial 
in his judgment, still deserves notice in these pages 
as being, besides a brother-in-law, one of my father's 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 71 

most valued and honored friends. The followino; 
Imes fi'om Mr. Wilham Bard, on the subject of his 
father's life, depicts, as in a glass, his own character : 

My dear Sir, — I have just risen from finishing 
the perusal of your memoir. You deserve the thanks 
of us all, and mine you most sincerely have for this 
delineation of my dear father's character. It would 
be scarcely prudent for me to say what the public 
will think of it, from my own opinion of its merits ; 
but if my feelings do not greatly deceive me it must 
be well received. I know it gives a just character 
of my father, and the manner in which that is done, 
will add, I have no doubt, to your reputation. In 
addition to the pride justly felt in the world's know- 
ing from what parents we have descended, the mak- 
ing such a character known cannot, I think, but be 
of service. He was made happy and successful 
through hfe by the performance of his duty in every 
station. His obedience to his parents protected his 
childhood from error ; his industry as a student gave 
him knowledge and reputation as a physician ; his 
attention to his business procured him independence ; 
his active philanthropy, the esteem of the public ; 
his kind and affectionate manner, the love of his 
family and friends ; his piety, content, with a calm 
and quiet conscience. 

He affords an instance of the reward a wise 
and virtuous conduct brings with it, even in this 
life, and an encouraging example of what may be 
done, by perseverance, industry, and honor, in secur- 
ing whatever of good this world has to offer. 



72 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

While I feel proud of such a parent and of such 
ancestors, I feel entailed on me greater obligations 
to endeavor, as far as my abilities and opportimities 
permit, to maintain the reputation of a name so sup- 
ported bv those who have gone before me. I shall 
offer jour book to my children as a manual and 
guide, in the hope that, influenced by the same feel- 
ings, they will make greater exertions to become the 
worthy representatives of such ancestors. It will, I 
trust, be a benefit to us all, and not only to us, but 
to many less interested, who may read it. Thus will 
the influence of my father's character extend even 
beyond his life ; and you be rewarded in the most 
grateful manner for the labor you have accomplished 
with so much skill and elegance. 

Yours, etc., 

Wm. Bard. 

June 17, 1822. 

This, a reflected picture of Mr. William Bard's 
own character and life, true in most points, fails, 
unfortunately, where it speaks of perseverance, in- 
dustry, and honor as being able to secure whatever 
of good this world has to offer. Mr. Bard was him- 
self both an example of industry and the acknowl- 
edged soul of honor, yet, at an advanced age, he 
was sacrificed for another's fault, and forced to re- 
sign the presidency of a wealthy moneyed institu- 
tion of this city because of the dishonesty of a trusted 
clerk. 

A tour to Niagara, durino; the vacation of 1824, 
gives us the following in a letter to Miss Bard : — 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 73 

" August 31. — In the whole course of our journey 
we have not passed so interesting a day as yester- 
day. Meeting General and Mrs. Gaines at Buffalo, 
the General proposed that we should journey together 
to the Falls, and visit in our way the battle-ground on 
the Canada frontier. We accordingly engaged an 
Extra to meet us at Waterloo, but ourselves took 
boat across the lake to Fort Erie, the scene of his 
exploits. We there 'fought all his battles o'er 
again ' amid the ruins which he left behind him. 
Chippeway, Lundy's Lane, and Queenstown Heights 
were all visited by us in the course of the day, the 
latter commanding a noble and delightful view of fifty 
miles of lake and land 

" I will not describe the Falls, for I cannot ; neither 
painting nor description can touch them. It is as 
much as one can do to bear the awful impressions 
which rush in upon the mind." 

Under date of the 11th of September, Miss Bard 
writes in her diary, " This evening arrived in perfect 
health our beloved party, after having enjoyed five 
weeks to the utmost extent of their wishes and ex- 
pectations, and are now preparing with a large party 
to witness the reception given at West Point to the 
Marquis de Lafayette." 



CHAPTER VI. 

HOME INSTRUCTION, POLITICAL ECONOMY, AND 

FINANCE : 1824-1827. 

HOME claims and the education of his children 
were matters that my father never neglected 
because of professional and outside duties. Rather 
did he gather up the experience which these latter 
gave him to apply them witH practical' and loving 
perseverance to those in whose improvement he was 
most interested. As this is not the universal experi- 
ence in the case of busy professional men, I here add 
some extracts from home letters to show how strik- 
ingly it was exemplified in his case. 

To his eldest daughter, now in her sixteenth year, 
spending the winter away from home, he writes : — 

My dearest Daughter, • — .... From nine to 
three is not too long to study, but it is too long to 
sit ; you must, therefore, break in upon its sedentary 
character as much as you can. It is the division I 
have always liked, the morning for study, the after- 
noon for exercise, and the evening for cheerful 
amusement. Or, in other words, the morning for 
the mind, the afternoon for the body, and the even- . 
ing for the social affections. 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 75 

To the same, at Miss Roberts' school : — 
" October 30. — ... I have long wished for you to 
have an opportunity of a short residence from home. 
The fault of character which I wished to see cor- 
rected is that of reliance on the care and attention 
and direction of others, which is destructive to all 
firmness and independence of character. Home fos- 
ters this weakness ; a residence abroad corrects it, by 
forcing you to the exercise of your own understand- 
ing and to depend on your own exertions. 

" Another error to which you are naturally inclined 
is a reserve which wraps you up in your own feelings, 
and indispose* you to enter with cheerfulness into 
the society and concerns of others. Throw this off, 
my dear daughter, for if indulged in it will make you 
less amiable and less useful. Force yourself to find 
occupation, if you cannot pleasure, in the company of 
your equals ; enter into their innocent amusements 
and conversation, and after a time you will find it 
agreeable, and your own happiness and your power 
of bestowing it upon others will be greatly increased. 
We are generally happy as well as good in proportion 
as we are forgetful of ourselves and thoughtful of 
others." 

To the same, while staying at Hyde Park : — 
''''Fehruary 8. — . . . We are all well pleased with 
your proposed jaunt. Whatever adds to your health 
and spirits is giving a new value to book learning. 
It brings it into play, turns learning into conversa- 
tional powers, history into anecdote, and poetry into 

taste The ball last night passed without any 

of us to witness its splendor, or partake of its gayety, 



76 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

SO that I am afraid you will receive but a lame 
account of it. Indeed, I do not know when we shall 
get to a ball again, having fallen into the error of the 
golden age of believing that they have little to do 
with true gayety of heart. You may perhaps correct 
our notions a little next- winter, but I forewarn you 
they are very stubborn, and will require you to wean 
us from them by very slow degrees. We have 
found out by our philosophy that there are very few 
free in this world, and that there are many other 
slaves beside those in the "West Indies, and many 
other tvrannical task-masters besides those the Man- 
umission Society tells us of. Instances have fallen 
under my own observation of their exacting such 
tasks from their slaves as have destroyed health and 
cheerfulness, and sometimes even life itself. But 
such cruelty is too shocking a subject for your sensi- 
tive feelings, so I pass to the gayer picture of our 
family fireside." 

To the same : — 

^'' March 13. — The older children go to school, the 
younger are left to the teaching of mother wit, whom 
I have always regarded as an excellent instructress, 
aided by their aunt with her main supporters, Addi- 
son and Johnson, your mother with the best of books, 
and your poor father with more anxiety than zeal, 
more zeal than diligence, more diligence than leisure, 
and that little leisure ai'med with an arithmetic in 
one hand, and Walter Scott and Shakespeare in the 
other." 

A few years later I find the following hints on 
study prepared for a younger daughter : — 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 77 

MEMORANDA FOR MY DAUGHTER. 

New York, January 1, 1828. 

First Great Principle. — Your country winter is 
intended for the benefit of your health. Everything, 
therefore, must yield to this. Study is altogether 
secondary. Exercise, gayety, and talk are better 
than books. Knowledge may be got afterwards, 
health and spirits are to be secured now. 

Second. — Readiness and correctness with your 
pen is the main point in which you need improve- 
ment. So far as regards the reputation of being 
well educated, and, I may add, for her own comfort, 
it is more important for a lady to write a good note 
or pleasing letter, than to know all languages, and 
the whole circle of sciences. 

Third. — In reading, everything depends upon the 
zeal and interest you take in what you read ; to read 
as a task is perfect waste of time, it makes stupid 
without making wise. 

Fourth. — Do not attempt to remember above a 
hundredth part of what you read. Choose what is 
most striking or illustrative of principles ; fix it by 
repetition, perhaps by writing, and, above all, by asso- 
ciating it with what you already know on the same 
subject, and if you wish to fix it forever in the 
memory, bring it forward in conversation as soon 
afterwards as you can. 

Lastly. — I need hardly impress upon you that the 
value of all education lies in its application. To 
make your own mind firm, benevolent, and resolute, 
— • to make others happy. 



78 LIFE OF JOHN MGVICKAR. 

To make this subject of home education at all 
complete, I here add portions of two consecutive let- 
ters written to his eldest daughter, toward the close 
of a winter at Hyde Park, bearing on her religious 
duties : — 

Columbia College, Wednesday Morning, March 1, 1825. ■ 

My dear Daughter, — I begin my letter before 
the receipt of yours, taking time by the forelock. I 
shall not finish, however, until I see whether your 
apology is satisfactory for the unprovoked attack you 
made upon my handwriting in your last. Your 
visit to the North gave us almost as much pleasure 
as it did you ; we enjoyed it in the double narration 
of yours and your Uncle Bard's letters, which, while 
they tallied in the main, varied in their shades of 
coloring, which belong not to the things themselves 
but to the eye which sees them. It reminded us of 
the varying pictures of the same events as given in 
"Humphrey Clinker," and with more of interest 
from the narrators. 

Your last letter in reference to your studies was 
highly satisfactory, except that it said nothing of your 
serious reading and serious thoughts, in which I feel 
a deeper interest than in anything else that concerns 
you. I am writing now on the first day of Lent, 
that season which the Christian Church has set aside 
from the earliest age as a suitable preparation for the 
festival of Easter, and I feel anxious to know whether 
it will so prepare your mind as to lead you then to 
become a communicant. Remember that on this 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 79 

point I neither solicit nor urge you, but merely ex- 
press my hopes and wishes that your understanding 
may be so enlightened as to see it to be your duty, 
and your heart so touched as to feel it to be your 
comfort and support. From the reading you have 
already gone through I am satisfied that your mind 
must be settled in belief, and that grounded on 
rational conviction, after which nothing further is 
needful but such a sense of your own weakness and 
reliance on the mercy of God as will lead you to 
receive with thankfulness a sacrament which has 
been appointed both as a means of grace and as a 
pledge of pardon. As to the obligations under which 
it brings you, it neither adds to nor lessens those 
under which you now stand, any more than the 
promise of a child to love and honor his parents 
creates the obligation to gratitude and obedience. 
You are now bound to a holy and virtuous life, to 
obey the truth in proportion as you are instructed in 
it, and the same continues to be your rule as well 
after as before becoming a communicant; it only 
increases your ability to do that to which you are 
already bound. As to restricting your pleasure, it 
will restrain you from nothing that is innocent, and 
in moderation, and to none other will your reason, 
or, I trust, your wishes, tend. To terminate your 
winter by such an act of religious duty would be the 
aim to which both mine and your mother's wishes 
tend, and it would double the pleasure, my dear 
daughter, with which both you and we will one day 
look back to it. It would be crowning a winter of 



80 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

intellectual improvement with an act of religious 
devotion, that, as it were, would sanctify the whole, 
and be, on your part, an acknowledgment of the great 
end to which all intellectual improvement is to be 
made subservient. But in all this we would have it 
to be what alone can give it value, an act of free-will 
and conscientious duty. Having said thus much, my 
dear daughter, in explanation of our wishes, I shall 
leave the subject free, and refer you to your excellent 
cousin, Mr. Johnson,^ for advice and direction, until 
your mind is definitely made up 

College Hall, Thursday Morning. 

My dear Daughter, — Though I plead guilty 
to the charge of illegibility, I am not likely, at least 
this term, to correct it, from the very obvious reason 
that I write during a college examniation, at which, 
from the president's sickness, I am the presiding 
officer ; so that while my thoughts are with you and 
my pen on the paper, my eyes must be directed 
toward the students. So that, if I am able to think 
intelligibly, it will be as much as you can fairly re- 
quire, let alone writing so. 

Your letter gave your mother and myself the 
highest gratification. To find your understanding 
fully satisfied on the great truths of religion, and 
your heart touched with them, fulfills, my dear 
daughter, our warmest wishes for you, since it as- 
sures us not only of your present but of your future 
happiness, and that however short may be our union 

1 Eev. S. R. Johnson, then Sector of St. James', Hyde Park. 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 81 

here we may look forwai'd with confidence to a 
never ending reunion hereafter. This is the only sat- 
isfactory basis on which filial and parental affection 
can rest, and henceforward our mutual enjoyment of 
all the innocent pleasures of life will be doubled fi'om 
the conviction that it is not limited to them, but that 
however or whenever death may part us, whether 
you be taken from us or we from you, yet that we 
may part in peace and hope from the conviction that 
we shall meet again, never more to be parted. 

This great security against the troubles of life, and 
this doubler of all its joj^s, you are now, I trust, my 
dear daughter, through the grace of God aiding your 
own sincere intentions, beginning to acquire. And 
in partaking of the blessed sacrament a further bless- 
ing will, I do not doubt, become yours. But in all 
this matter I must guard you against an error into 
which the young and warm-hearted are apt to run, 
and to which I think you incline. I mean the de- 
sire and expectation of some great and decided 
change of character and feeling; from the conscien- 
tious use of the means of grace, of prayer and re- 
ligious reading and the sacrament, and disappoint- 
ment and self-accusation and distress of mind if the 
feelings do not accord. Now all this is wrong, and 
founded on false views of our nature and our duty, 
and tends to lessen greatly our temporal happiness 
without increasing our religious comfort or security. 
Consider what the object of religion and revelation 
is. It is to be a guide to our feet amid the snares 
and temptations of life, and a comfort to our hearts 
G 



82 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

under its trials and sorrows, and an assurance of 
pardon to those who, having failed through the frailty 
of nature, do yet through a Saviour's grace repent 
and amend. Here, then, are the objects of religion, 
and by our practical conformity to them and not by 
our feelings are we to try ourselves. Do we look to 
our religion to guide and strengthen us when we are 
tempted to wrong ? Do we derive our comfort from 
it when suffering; under the sorrows of life ? Do we 
humble ourselves when we have offended and seek 
pardon from God through the mediation of our Sav- 
iour ? If our faith have this strength, we need not be 
made unhappy by what we may consider the hardness 
of our feelings ; they are as God has made them by 
the physical and mental constitution of our nature. 
I have occupied my paper, my dear daughter, with 
this subject, because it seems to be uppermost in your 
mind, and I am sure it is in mine 

The following from a letter of the same winter, 
will give us a slight picture of the home life at " No. 
8," as the house was familiarly called, and introduce 
us to the literary work which was then occupying 
all my father's spare hours. 

" As you tell me nothing of your studies, I must 
tell you of mine. Since my return I have resumed 
my Notes on Political Economy, perhaps for the 
press. To these I devote all my leisure time after 
college duties are over and domestic arrangements 
attended to. Till nine a. m. is fully occupied, after 
prayers, with breakfast and a short chat around a 



EOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 83 

warm fire, and a long walk to a cold market. From 
nine to half-past twelve college.lectures, which fatigue 
me sufficiently to send me out of my lecture room 
for half an hour, which, by way of relaxation, I em- 
ploy in the correction of some pages of your sister's 
notes on history. Thus strengthened, with perhaps 
a biscuit to bo6t, I return'to my room, whence I am 
called to dinner, and generally again after dinner till 
summoned to tea. After that hour ' vive la baga- 
telle ' — down with the Political Economy — up with 
family amusement ; at half after nine Aunt S. and 
I wind up the pleasures of the evening with one or 
two hits at backgammon, while your mother takes 
her lounge on the sofa, and the day closes with 
prayers, which arise from, I think, not unthankfal 
hearts, and in which our dear absent daughter is 
not forgotten. By this sketch you may see that-I 
am not eating the bread of idleness, and that if I 
praise study I also practice it." 

The mention of the " Notes on Political Economy " 
in this last letter brings me to a subject which, though 
perhaps one of the most important in my father's life, 
I have no right to consider as one of general interest. 
I refer to his position and influence as a writer on 
political economy and finance. And yet, though 
my readers may not incline to be led into the intri- 
cacies of either of these subjects, the results of which 
alone are generally popular, yet I hope to interest 
them in a short statement of the relation held by the 
subject of this memoir to the history of matters 
which have exercised great influence on the pros- 
perity of the country. 



84 LIFE OF JOHN M^-'VICKAR. 

In 1818 the subject of Political Economy was, at 
Professor McVickar's request, added to his depart- 
ment in Columbia College. This was its fir§t intro- 
duction into any American college as a distinct chair, 
and the new professor devoted himself to the subject 
with great earnestness and zeal. Tlie want of a 
proper text-book was at once felt. No foreign work, 
written, as all such were, to meet the wants of a dense 
population and a different political status, was at all 
suitable. My father felt this, and a letter from Ed- 
ward Everett, dated January 8, 1822, shows that he 
had tried to impress him into the service ; but though 
acknowledging the need, and his own interest in 
the subject, he pleads other engagements. Unable 
from the same reason to undertake the preparation 
of an entirely original work himself, my father soon 
set himself to prepare an American edition of an 
article on political economy which had just ap- 
peared in a supplement to the " Encyclopedia Britan- 
nica," from the pen of the afterwards celebrated J. R. 
McCulloch. 

In the preparation of this work, with its copious 
notes on the American bearing of its various prob- 
lems, he was greatly encouraged by his warm friend, 
Mr. James Wadsworth of Geneseo, N. Y., the father 
of the late General Wadsworth, who, with one or two 
other young men, was then residing in my father's 
family, while attending school in the city. Writing 
on the 16th May, 1825, Mr. Wadsworth says : " I am 
perfectly aware that it is no common undertaking in 
which you are engaged, and I have no doubt the 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 85 

work rapidly grows upon your hands as you pursue 
it. I hardly dare trust myself to speak on what I 
deem the importance of introducing the study of 
Political Economy in our literary institutions." 

This work appeared from the press during the same 
year with a short dedication to Mr. Wadsworth, one 
of the clearest and most philanthropic minds of the 
period. It was the first work on the science of polit- 
ical economy published in America, and was well 
received. It is interesting now to look back forty-six 
years and see the principles upon which this Science 
of national and individual well-being was first pre- 
sented to the American mind. 

" The principles," says the editor in his conclud- 
ing remarks, " which this science teaches, entitle it to 
be regarded as the moral instructor of nations. To 
them that will give ear it demonstrates the necessary 
connection that subsists between national virtue,, 
national interest, and national happiness. 

" It is to states what religion is to individuals, the 
' preacher of righteousness.' What religion re- 
proves as wrong, political economy rejects as inex- 
pedient. What religion condemns as contrary to 
duty and virtue, political economy proves to be 
equally opposed to the peace, good order, and per- 
manent prosperity of the community. Thus slave 
labor is exploded for its expensiveness, non-inter- 
course is condemned for its extravagance, privateer- 
ing for its waste of wealth, and war for the injury 
sustained even by the victor ; and thus freedom of 
person, fi-iendly intercourse between nations, kindr 



86 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

ness even in hostilities, and, if possible, universal 
peace, which are the highest blessings as well as the 
greatest virtues, are supported by the all-powerful 
considerations of self-interest 

" This picture, however, presupposes virtue in the 
people. Political economy is a science which guards 
against involuntary, not voluntary error. It enters 
into harmonious alliance with religion, but cannot 
supply its place. It must find public men true to 
their trust." 

From his retirement at Monticello, Thomas Jeffer- 
son writes approvingly of the work, but in a tone 
which, perhaps unintentionally, carries its lessons of 
spiritual rather than political economy : — 

Monticello, March 30, 1826. 

I thank you, sir, for the treatise of Mr. McCul- 
loch, and your much approved republication of it. 
Long withdrawn from the business of the world, and 
little attentive to its proceedings, I rarely read any- 
thing requiring a very strenuous application of the 
mind, and none requires it more than the subject of 
political economy. I rejoice, nevertheless, to see that 
it is beginning to be cultivated in our schools. No 
country on earth requires a sound intelligence of it 
more than ours. The rising generation will, I hope, 
be qualified to act on it understandingly and to cor- 
rect the errors of their predecessors. With many 
thanks, be pleased to accept the assurance of my great 
respect. Th. Jefferson. 

The Rev. Mb. McVickae, New York. 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 87 

The following is a characteristic note from Chan- 
cellor Kent in reference to the same : — 



Professor MoVickar, Columbia College. 

Mr. Kent returns his grateful acknowledgments to 
Professor McVickar for the " Outlines of Political 
Economy," which he received some time since. He 
delayed the acknowledgment until he had leisure 
to read the book. He has now finished the careful 
perusal and study of the work, and he is in perfect 
admiration of the good sense, simplicity, and beauty 
of the publication, and he begs leave to add that he 
thinks the " notes " of the editor are just and candid, 
and display a clear analytical sagacity and a profound 
and accurate knowledge of the science. He professes 
to have made himself master of the text and of the 
notes, and to have derived a vast amount of valuable 
instruction from both. 

He desires Professor McVickar to be assured of his 
highest respect and esteem. 

68 Greenwich Street, October 19, 1825. 

The subject thus entered upon in connection with 
his chair of political economy was one very conge- 
nial to my father's mind. But not theoretically alone. 
It, like every other subject in which he interested him- 
self, must have its practical applications in the wants 
of the hour, or else, except so far as duty required, 
his interest flagged. His mind, though analytic to a 
high degree, was remarkably practical. At that time 
the whole financial system of the United States was 



88 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

in a very crude, unsettled state. In forbidding any- 
thing but gold and silver as a 'legal tender, it was 
thought by many that the Constitution forbade like- 
wise all legitimate use of paper money, and thus the 
whole subject of banking was misrepresented and mis- 
understood. Into these practical questions of finance, 
so intimately connected with political economy, my 
father entered with deep interest. A close intimacy 
with such men as Isaac Bronson, Albert Gallatin, and 
Mr. Biddle, served to keep that interest well alive. 

During the succeeding year, 1826, he published a 
pamphlet entitled " Interest made Equity." This 
would seem to have been, like his former work, the 
republication of an English essay with notes and ad- 
ditions. I have never seen it, but Mr. Wm. Bard, 
writing under the date of March 27, 1826, says : " I 
have never thanked you as I ought to have done for 
your last pamphlet on the subject of Interest. That 
part of it which belongs to yourself is executed with 
your usual ability and strengthens the unanswerable 
arguments of the essay, on the propriety of leaving 
money, like anything else, to find its own value." 

The next year, 1827, he put forth another pam- 
phlet on a kindred subject, entitled, " Hints on Bank- 
ing, in a Letter to a Gentleman in Albany." This 
was entirely his own, and evinces a clear grasp of 
both the errors and the wants of the banking system, 
not alone of this country, but of the world. For the 
unsatisfactory condition of banking then was the same 
everywhere, and changes since that time prove that 
these " Hints " were correct and needed. The sub- 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 89 

ject of a general State legislative enactment in the 
matter of bankino; was at this time creating some 
attention at Albany, all banking being then under 
individual charter, and this letter was intended to 
bear directly upon the question. The bulk of the 
pamphlet of forty odd pages is principally taken up in 
meeting and exposing the many financial fallacies of 
the day. Then follow these conclusions, many of 
which were new, and the first one, then at least, 
considered over bold. 

I. Bankincr to be a free trade to individuals or 
associations under the provisions of a general statute. 

II. The banking capital to be put in pledge outside 
the power of the bank for the redemption of its prom- 
issory notes, one tenth to be invested at the discretion 
of the bank, nine tenths in government stock, the 
bank to receive the dividends, but such stock to be 
untransferable except at the order of the court on the 
winding up the affairs of the bank. 

III. All promissory notes to show on their face the 
amount of pledged stock and the necessary signatures. 
To exceed the amount of pledged stock in promissory 
notes, or to refuse redemption, to be considered acts 
of bankruptcy. The deposit of stock to be capable 
of increase, but not of decrease. 

IV. No notes of a denomination under fi^^e dollars 
to be issued. 

The few concluding words with which these prin- 
ciples are recommended, remembering that we are 
listening to a voice of forty-four years ago, deserve 
consideration. 



90 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

" That these provisions would free banking from 
all abuses, it would be arrogance to assert ; but that 
they would remedy many and great ones that now 
exist, seems to be unquestionable. They would oper- 
ate no change upon our sound banking institutions, 
which already rest, not upon their charters, but upon 
the confidence of the public. The unsound banks, if 
any such there are, of course would shrink before the 
test to their natural dimensions, and either be renewed 
upon sounder principles, or leave their places to be 
supplied by real capitalists. In short, under this sys- 
tem, banking would lose all its attractions, except to 
the honest, the economical, and the persevering ; it 
would have no surplus profits to tempt the needy and 
the speculating, nor any cover for bankruptcy to al- 
lure the unprincipled. But we should have for our 
bankers, men of wealth, integrity, and skill, at the 
head either of private banks or voluntary associations, 
and drawing from society, not the gains of monopoly, 
but the equal profits of free trade, the fair reward of 
integrity and economy in unfettered and open com- 
petition. Under such a system of banking, merchants 
would be more independent and the public more se- 
cure, fluctuations less frequent, speculations less wild, 
commercial prosperity less transient, and, to crown all 
with a recommendation that I am sure will enlist you, 
sir, among its advocates, our legislature would be less 
beset for banking charters by hungry and pertinacious 
adventurers." 

This " Letter " appeared anonymously, though the 
dating from Columbia College must have suggested 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 91 

the now widely known Professor of Political Econ- 
omy as its author. Several letters, both from Albany 
and other cities, especially Philadelphia, then the 
theoretic centre at least of banking interests, show 
that it received marked attention. And when, in 
1838, the legislature of New York did enact " A 
General Banking Law," in it were found embodied 
many of the suggestions and principles of this " Let- 
ter," which, whether due to it or not, have given to 
the State of New York one of the best banking sys- 
tems in the world. 

I am indebted to my friend, Mr. John E. Williams, 
the accomplished President of the Metropolitan Bank 
of New York, for a letter in review of this and other 
of my father's financial tracts, which rightly belongs 
in this place, but bowing to the dictum of my pub- 
lisher, which it is impossible to gainsay, that the gen- 
eral readers of clerical biography are not financiers, 
I have allowed it, I trust without offense, to meet its 
interested readers in an appendix. 

From this time forward till the close of the brief 
yet influential history of the " New York Review," 
in 1842, my father was a constant writer on financial 
and economic questions, beside the other subjects 
which employed his pen. And generally, as is not 
always the case on such subjects, while his views 
were sound and deep, his style was readable, and his 
grasp of the special wants of his own country remark- 
able. 

In an article written for the " New York Review " 
in 1841, and afterward circulated in pamphlet form, 



92 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

entitled, " A National Bank, its Necessity and most 
Advisable Form," we have this remarkable foreshad- 
owing of our present national system. 

" Has not the public been at all times a heavy suf- 
ferer by the bills of broken banks, discredited notes, 
and innumerable forgeries upon local issues, arising 
from their infinite diversity ? Now if this be, as it 
has ever been, a crying evil in our currency, the 
question is. Can it now, through the mediurti of a 
national bank, be, if not wholly removed, yet further 
and perhaps indefinitely diminished ? We think it 
can. What would be, we ask, the necessary opera- 
tion of the paper part of our currency being made to 
consist entirely of issues of the national bank ? What 
would be thought of the principle of separating alto- 
gether in banking the making of notes from the loan- 
ing of notes, — thus constituting the national bank 
the only issuer, and leaving to local banks the safer 
and more rightful business of the banker, — discount 
and deposit, with circulation of other's paper : which 
in. truth are all the operations that connect banks 
with the business wants of the country, the other be- 
ing but an attribute of sovereignty, in which the pub- 
lic as such has no interest. This is a grave question, 
and demands to be thoroughly looked into. Expe- 
rience, indeed, has its weight, but so, too, has ad- 
vancing knowledge ; and it may well be absurd to 
suppose that the American people should at once have 
reached the acme of perfection in a practical science, 
and on a definite question in that science, wherein 
the most enlightened European nations, with their 



HOME INSTRUCTION, ETC. 93 

tenfold experience, still hold themselves to be but 
learners." 

And how true has been the following foreshadowed 
experience both as regards expectation and result in 
the case of the State banks. 

" But now for the interest of the issuers themselves, 
how are the State banks to be made willing or even 
unwilling parties in this substitution ? Twelve hun- 
dred, at least. State banks, broken or unbroken, now 
enjoy this privilege, and value it as a source of profit, 
and will not abandon it. By Avhat scheme of tyr- 
anny, it is asked, shall it be wrested from them ? By 
what instrument of power shall the federal govern- 
ment put them down? Still more, by what argu- 
ment justify to the nation such usurpation? But 
softly, gentlemen ! Your right of issue we do not 
propose to take from you, but simply the motive of 
interest., that alone leads you to issue your own notes ; 
we propose not to break you down but to build you 
up. Suppose, for instance, you were to find it to 
your interest to circulate the notes of a national 
bank rather than your own, would you not at once 
pocket both the profit and the aflfront ? Surely as 
wise bankers you would, or if you still preferred pride 
to profit, stockholders, having no pride on that point, 
would soon put others in your place who would." 

It had not been my intention to go even as far as 
I have into this exposition of my father's views on the 
subject of finance, but there is an undoubted interest, 
hard to resist, in thus tracing the prophetic flashes .of 
the true science of yesterday as it discloses the riches 



94 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

of to-day. And such was the character of my fa- 
ther's work as a political economist. He was no sec- 
ond hand retailer of book truths, but a genuine ten- 
tative thinker, bent on discovery. As he says of 
himself in another review on this subject : " We are 
of that class of reasoners who hold it to be of the 
nature of t^uth to work its own way. And we are 
further well satisfied, that in the long run the world 
is governed by what practical men so greatly despise 
— Ideas — abstract, metaphysical, primal truths, 

such as — 

* Wake to perish never.' " 



CHAPTER VII. 

CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES : 1828. 

T^HIS was a busy period in my father's life, and 
he gave himself up without reserve to every call 
that seemed to him one of duty. For two years or 
more he had been a member of the missionary com- 
mittee of the diocese, and soon was appointed its sec- 
retary, which brought upon him the chief burden and 
responsibility of its affairs, This was especially the 
case during Bishop Hobart's absence in Europe, at 
which time he entered with much zeal into the in- 
terests of the Indian mission of the diocese, at the 
" Oneida Reservation," where Williams, who after- 
wards obtained that strange notoriety as a possible 
Bourbon, was quietly and earnestly officiating as 
deacon. He himself visited the Reservation, and 
afterwards so warmly pleaded the Indian's cause at 
Washincrton as to obtain from the General Govern- 
ment aid for their mission school. The scene of this 
interesting; mission- is thus described in his "Life of 
Bishop Hobart " : — 

" Their rich, extended domains were lying in com- 
mon, the property of the tribe, not of individuals, 
some little of it cultivated, more in open pasture, but 
most in its state of native wildness, and reserved for 



96 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

hunting grounds. Through these forests, paths there 
were many, but roads none, and the generally rude, 
though sometimes neat and rustic dwellings of these 
sons of the forest lay scattered in wild but pictur- 
esque confusion." 

Among those who flocked around Bishop Hobart 
on his visit to them a few years previous, was one 
aged Mohawk warrior, who, amid his heathen 
brethren, had for half a century held fast by that 
holy faith in which he had been instructed and bap- 
tized by a missionary from the Society in England 
while these States were still colonies. Through the 
catechist, as interpreter, he now recounted the event 
in the figurative language of these children of nature, 
and pointed out with as much feeling as belongs to 
that imperturbable race, the very spot where this early 
missionary had been accustomed to assemble them and 
to preach. It was an open glade in the forest, with 
a few scattered oaks, still vigorous and spreading ; 
and within view, as if to perpetuate the association, 
now arose the tower of a neat rustic church." 

Mr. Williams' name having been mentioned, it 
seems due to him upon whom some would have 
thrust the doubtful honors of a title to the French 
crown, to erect here his truer monument of praise 
from the mouth of Bishop Hobart : — 

" Mr. Eleazar Williams, educated in a different 
communion, connected himself with our church fi'om 
conviction, and appears warmly attached to her doc- 
trines, her apostolic ministry, and her worship. Soon 
after he commenced his labors among the Oneidas, 



CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES. 97 

the pagan party solemnly professed the Christian 
faith. Mr. Williams repeatedly explained to them, 
in councils which they held for this purpose, the evi- 
dences of the divine origin of Christianity, and its 
doctrines, institutions, and precepts. He combated 
their objections, patiently answered their inquiries, 
and was finally, through the Divine blessing, suc- 
cessful in satisfying their doubts. Soon after their- 
conversion they appropriated, in conjunction with 
the Christian party, the proceeds of the sale of some-^ 
of their lands for the erection of a handsome edifice 
for divine worship." ^ 

A vote of thanks from the board of the general 
missionary society of the Church to Professor Mc- 
Vickar, dated May 16th, 1828, shows him as supply- 
ing at this time the pulpit duties of the Rev., after- 
wards Bishop Upfold, while the latter was preaching 
for the society. That preaching had not, in spite of 
other thoughts and duties, become irksome, is evident 
from the following scraps of family letters belonging, 
to this period : — 

" I have been called, through Dr. Wainwright's 
absence, more than usual of late to clerical duties, 
to which I return with so much pleasure that were 
it not for other considerations I should have strong; 
thoughts of returning to them again." 

" Dr. Wainwright, after being away three weeks, 
has returned. His absence revived my love of pa- 
rochial duty, and I shall come to it perhaps at last- 
No duties leave so pleasing an impression on my 

1 Journal of New York Convention, 1818. 
7 ■ 



98 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

mind ; and in this uncertain life it is a great comfort 
to have such recollections." 

This refers to duty done in Grace Church, then 
on the corner of Rector Street and Broadway, and 
in which was the family pew. It was his regular 
place of worship until the removal of the church to 
its present site, and whenever needed, his assistance 
w^as cheerfully rendered. 

The following is from a four-page foolscap letter 
written to his eldest son at Constableville. President 
Harris was then ill, and though only in his forty-sec- 
ond year, my father was the senior professor, and 
hence obliged to preside at the college commence- 
ment. It thus happened that Washington Irving re- 
ceived at his hands the honorary degree of Doctor of 
Civil Laws, which had just been conferred upon him 
by the board of trustees. 

College, Friday Morning, 7th August, 1829. 

My DEAR Son, — You see by my beginning that 
I intend to give you honest measure ; but whether I 
shall fill it or no depends upon the leisure I shall find 

to finish it Henry, I trust, is now with you, 

and my letter is to you both, and my expressions of 
love and affection and praise in having two such 
affectionate and good sons. You seem like my 
props or supporters — like the lion and the unicorn 
on the royal arms holding and defending the crown. 
Mr. Ogilby ^ sets off" to-day for the North. His 

1 Rev. John D. Ogilby, first Principal of Columbia College 
Grammar School, and afterwards Professor of Ecclesiastical History 
in the General Theological Seminary. 



CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES. 99 

Greek speech at Commencement was admirably de- 
livered. The young ladies especially vowed that 
they understood it perfectly. He was so graceful 
and emphatic, and looked so animated, they declared, 
it was impossible to misunderstand him. 

You have seen, I suppose, by the paper that the 
Commencement passed off well, for which I was very 
thankfiil as all the responsibility rested upon me. 
The day began with being very damp ; we had to 
walk through a drizzle, and when we came out it 
poured. Notwithstanding the day, the church, St. 
John's, was crowded. I was afraid I should have 
trouble, for soon after we got in, Dugan the janitor, 
on whom I depended for sending orders, said he 
was so ill he must go home — and went. The con- 
stables kept no order ; ladies crowded into the stu- 
dents' seats, and they began to clap violently at the 
end of the very first speech. Upon this I quitted 
the pulpit, sent for the head constable and told him 
if there was any repetition of it I would strike off 
half the pay they were to receive. This made them 
alert, and the greatest order prevailed to the close. 
You would have smiled to have seen me in my doc- 
tor's dress, with square cap and scarlet hood, confer- 
ring the degrees. I got through the ceremonials and 
the Latin, fortunately, without a false step or a false 
quantity, and was congratulated by all fi-iends. I 
introduced an alteration in the ceremony that was 
much approved. Before conferring degrees, chairs to 
the number of the class were arranged on the stage, 
which was very large, and as each graduate retired 



100 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VLCKAR. 

with his diploma, he took his seat of honor. It 
cleared off before the hour of five, and we had the 
largest and pleasantest Commencement dinner I have 
ever known. The mayor and corporation, and several 
strangers of distinction, were present; among them 
Sir Hilgrave Turner, governor of the Bermudas, with 
whose family we have become very intimate and 

highly delighted Your affectionate 

father, J. McV. 

A few days later and he too was at Constable- 
ville, three hundred miles from New York, enjoying 
his freedom from college cares, and rejoicing in 
the company of the two boys to whom his last letter 
was addressed, and the many relations and friends 
which formed its attractive circle. A home letter 
gives us a few lines on the results of a self-inspec- 
tion, which, howcA^er habitual, seldom left its record 
on paper. 

'"''August 10, 1829. I preached this morning to a 
circle of relations and old friends, and was greeted 
by many old acquaintances of the neighborhood with 
strong expressions of pleasure. On coming home to 
my brother's, as I sat down in my pretty cottage 
room to indulge in a little reflection on old times 
and absent friends, the recollection suddenly crossed 
me that it was my birthday. I know not why, but 
the idea struck me for a moment painfully, but that 
soon passed, and I then proceeded to reflect seriously, 
and, I hope, profitably, on the many, many blessings 
I had to be thankful for — the many pro vidences 



CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES. 101 

which marked a life of forty-one years ; how often 
preserved, and pardoned, and blessed, amid much of 
thoughtlessness and forgetfulness, to say no worse. 
The train of thought ended in comfort — comfort for 
the past and hope for the future, and a commend-* 
ing prayer for you and our dear children, and ab- 
sent friends, that we might be directed and supported, 
and after a life of love and peace might all meet 
again in heaven." 

The advanced age and prolonged illness of Dr. 
Harris, — he died in October of this year, — naturally 
awakened at this time the question of his successor 
in the presidency of Columbia College. My father, 
who for some time past, at the request of the board, 
had been performing all the duties of the office, was 
naturally a prominent candidate. His devotion to 
the interests of the college, his high standard of ex- 
cellence in all that pertained to university educa- 
tion, and his acknowledged ability, all pointed him 
out as one peculiarly fitted for the post. But his 
decision of character, firm administration of disci- 
pline, and, above all, his earnest Churchmanship, 
created a strong counter influence out of those ele- 
ments which, both among the undergraduates and 
the trustees, would be found naturally antagonistic 
to such characteristics. We find evidence of this 
coalition of opposing influences, even before Presi- 
dent Harris' death, in a paper presented to the 
board of trustees on the morning of Commencement 
Day, in the name of certain members of the graduat- 
ing class, remonstrating against Professor McVickar's 



102 ■ LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

appointment to confer degrees on that occasion. It 
failed of its object, and though its influence was 
greatlj lessened when among its prompters were 
found at least one offended father, himself a trustee, 
and his lately disciplined son, still it was not with- 
out its effect in giving color and form to an opposi- 
tion which was the more unreasonable from the fact 
that it was doctrinal rather than personal. If, how- 
ever, it disclosed enemies, it likewise unlocked the 
hearts of friends. Bishop Hobart, an ex-officio trus- 
tee of the college, thus writes : — 

Paeis Hill, September 15, 1829. 

My dear Sir, — I regret exceedingly that any- 
thing should have occurred to give you the least 
pain. Be assured that the very high opinion of you 
which it has yielded me the greatest pleasure to 
cherish, is too strongly fixed to be in the least degree 
shaken by the very unmerited attack (as I think I 
may style it) which has been made upon you. That 
opinion, too, is fortified by the sincerest sentiments 
of affection excited by your personal virtues, and by 
the long experience of your kindness on all occa- 
sions to me. I am proud, too, in the consideration 
that you, who I think I can call my friend, are 
fitted in all respects for the highest literary sta- 
tions in our country. This opinion I have long 
entertained and expressed ; I shall continue to ex- 
press it, and, when opportunity offers, to sustain, and 
as far as may be in my power, to advance it. 

Your path has been an honorable and a happy one. 



CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES. 103 

Some clouds must occasionally cross it. They will 
soon pass away. 

Believe me, 

Faithfully and affectionately 
Your friend, 

J. H. HOBART. 
The Rev. John MoVickar, D. D., Professor, etc., etc., etc. 

The illness of the president continued to throw 
upon the senior professor all his official duties. On 
the 16th of October, we find him the representative 
of the faculty in the ceremony of opening and ded- 
icating the new grammar-school building just erected 
in the rear of the college. " Old Columbia," as it 
was even then called, was not above having proces- 
sions in those days, as is evident by the following 
from the " New York American," under date : — 

" The trustees of Columbia, the faculty, and 
many of the parents having assembled at the col- 
lege, at 10 o'clock, a procession was formed ; the boys 
of the grammar school, to the number of about one 
hundred, and the students of the college, leading; 
the trustees, faculty, the parents and guardians of 
the scholars and such other gentlemen as attended', 
following. Passing up Park Place, and thence 
through Broadway to Murray Street, the procession! 
entered the school-house in reversed order." 

Mr. Ogilby, whose Greek speech at the late Com- 
mencement we have seen so highly commended, had 
been appointed head master of the school, and his 
induction formed the principal circumstance of the 
occasion, giving us in the address a fair sample of my 



104 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

father's happy manner on such occasions. We say 
" happy," because that word best describes tliat re- 
sultant feeling of a stiiTed ambition and a warmed 
heart, which was ever the effect produced on others 
by his premeditated words. 

i . . » " You are this day called, sir, to an arduous 
and responsible charge ; permit me to say that it is as 
responsible as it is honorable, and one which, while it 
stamps reputation on your past exertions, will call for 
all your efforts to deserve and maintain it. You are 
now no longer a private individual ; you are invested 
with an official character. Your good or ill success are 
no longer confined to your own fortunes ; they ope- 
rate beyond that narrow sphere, and reflect credit or 
disgrace both on the school we have founded, and the 
college to which we belong. These are high and 
imperative motives, and will operate correspondingly 
on the ingenuous and noble-minded. 

" When we reflect on your youth, thus called to 
govern when your equals in age have scarcely ceased 
to yield obedience, I do not deny but that a shade of 
apprehension glances across our minds ; but when we 
again reflect on the proofs you have already given of 
those talents which the station requires ; when we turn 
our eyes to that band of ambitious and well-trained 
students, you have recently presented to us, our ap- 
prehensions are changed into confidence, and we hail 
your appointment as a presage of future success; 
and with warifier feelings I add, when we recollect 
that it is from our training that you have gone forth, 
that in our own bosom that son has been nourished 



CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES. 105 

who now bids fair to return tenfold to his parent that 
strength he once received at her hands, I say it, sir, 
without a compliment, our feelings are those of honest 
pride and pious exultation. We are proud to call 
you our son ; we are thankful that we are given to 
behold such fruit of our labors. 

" To one like you, who know how small are human 
attainments when compared with the boundless field 
of knowledge, I need not fear addressing these words 
of praise ; I need not add that this language of affec- 
tionate commendation should excite in your bosom 
not vanity but humility, not pride but honorable res- 
olutions to win and deserve all we can say. To repose 
from labor is not the lot of man, least of all is it the 
fiiir attribute of the student ; and the worst of all 
auguries is it, when it appears in youth. To the 
good student as to the good man, life is but a course 
of never-ending duties ; and to run that course with 
an untiring ardor, with an eye which never wanders 
from that lofty prize, which lies beyond his reach — 
this is to him that very happiness which others so 
vainly seek in indolent repose. Press on, then, in the 
career of useftilness in which you have so honorably 
labored. Set to yourself no vulgar model of excel- 
lence, and let the candidates you present to us be 
your speaking witnesses. 

" But while you seek for yourself honorable fame, 
while you seek for the school and college the means 
of extended usefulness, let me say to you in a higher 
spirit, seek the direction and guidance of that power 
who alone can enable you to attain them. Seek His 



106 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

approbation, from whose favor you derive all your 
talents and all your advantages. In addressin|^ to you 
on this occasion such solemn considerations, I am 
sure I do not wander from the current of your own 
feelings. No reflecting mind can undertake new and 
responsible duties without some thoughts cast upward 
to implore grace to perform them. I do not envy 
the man who could do it, and I distrust the man who 
would. 

" But I cannot conclude these words of affec- 
tionate as well as official recognition, without some 
reference to the venerated head of our college, who, 
if health had been spared to him, would this day 
have addressed you. While I think thereupon, I 
cannot but image to myself his venerable figure and 
benevolent countenance, and the delight with which 
he would, on this day and in this place, have hailed 
this accomplishment of his dearest and long cher- 
ished wishes. I may say that his very heart has 
been in its success. The establishment of a college 
school was the first subject on which he consulted me 
twelve years ago when I took my seat as youngest 
member of that board of which the rapid rotation of 
life has now made me senior. It was, I say, the first 
object on which he consulted me, and it is the last 
subject, save those which look beyond the grave, on 
which with dying lips he has spoken to me. 

" Had Heaven then given him strength to witness 
this scene, how would he have poured forth the fer- 
vor of his single-hearted, thankful spirit! To my 
ears I confess it would have sounded like a blessing 



CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES. 107 

on ttis institution ; and on your heart, my young 
friend, his words would have sunk hke the dying 
admonition of a pious parent, never, never to be for- 
gotten. But Heaven has willed it otherwise ; he is 
passing to his blessed account, we are left to follow 
out the footsteps of his wisdom." 

This address seemed to possess so much of unity, 
and to be so characteristic of my father's addresses 
generally, that I have ventured to give it entire, 
more especially as the concluding portion was, in 
truth, a requiem upon the venerable person whose 
absence is there lamented. And it was a true 
lament, for the affection which had grown up be- 
tween the youthful professor and the aged president 
in those twelve years of academic and neighborly 
intercourse had been a very sincere one. 

Hardly two days after these words were spoken. 
President Harris passed away. Under the date of 
the 18th of October, Miss Bard writes in her diary, 
*' This morning, at one o'clock, our venerated and 
most respected president changed this painful life 
for the joys of heaven ; nor do I believe he has left 
behind one soul more pure and fitted to enjoy its 
rewai'ds and blessings." 

Professor McVickar was requested to preach at 
his funeral. This he did, and I believe that the ser- 
mon was printed, but I have never seen it except in 
manuscript. I quote briefly from it as helping us to 
carry on the story of our Life by disclosing to us 
the character of its friends, and also because it en- 
ables me, in few and fitting words of his own choos- 



108 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

ing, to present a picture of my father's own religious 
faith. 

.... " If place can -add weight to those lessons 
which death teaches, here is the spot to speak them, 
for before that very altar where his body now re- 
poses, eight-and-thirty years ago, our deceased friend 
first stood and there took upon himself the vows of a 
Christian minister. Before that altar the earthly 
tabernacle still is, but where is the spirit that assumed 
those vows ? Gone, my brother, to that place where 
those vows were registered — gone to that higher 
tribunal where an account must be rendered of their 
performance. At that bar no human merit is known, 
no claim pleaded, save that atonement which God, 
through Christ, has accepted ; and it is only as a par- 
doned sinner, pardoned through faith and sincere 
obedience, that the spirit which once dwelt in that 
tenantless clay can now stand before the bar of 
judgment. But with frail mortals like us, human 
virtues have their value because they have their 
influence ; and while our holy Church teaches us to 
thank God for the good example of those who have 
finished their course in faith, we do not fear to trace 
not for eulogy but improvement, the Christian traits 
which ennobled the character of our venerable presi- 
dent. They are such as the world might possibly 
pass by without notice, but in the sight of God they 
are of great price ; and, permit me to say, have often 
sunk into my heart, an instructive lesson, and spoke 
a wisdom beyond this world's teaching. They may 
be summed up in a few brief words : Singleness of 
heart ; meekness of tongue ; piety of spirit 



CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES. 109 

" Such was his calm and tranquil death, full of 
hope, answering well to the life he had lived. If 
asked on what that hope rested, I reply, where alone 
the hopes of dying man can rest, on the belief of the 
Atonement. 

" In the latest conversation I had with him his 
language to me was, ' In the Atonement is all my 
comfort,' while he folded me in a dying embrace, 
which memory shall long live to recall. And where 
else, my brethren, can solid hope be built? In that 
trying hour, philosophy indeed may exhibit calmness, 
and fanaticism may display the raptures of an excited 
imagination, but hope, such as the unclouded soul 
can rest upon, rational, yet heartfelt, such hope 
nothing can give to the dying sinner — nothing, I be- 
lieve, has ever given, but the reliance on an atone- 
ment. It is a want of the human heart, and, in 
whatever darkness that heart may be, it will, in its 
hour of need, grope until it find it. The pious Jew 
on his death-bed, clung to it in the types and figures 
of the Law ; the pious heathen, trembling on the 
verge of eternity, searched it out even amid the 
abominations of his idolatry ; and the pious Chris- 
tian, amid all his blessings, blesses God chiefly for 
that cheering word, ' Jesus Christ came into the 
world to save sinners,' — on this hope our venerated 
friend rested, and to him was the promise fulfilled 
of support in that trying hour. He has gone to his 
reward : let us honor his fair fame ; let us love his 
memory ; let us cherish the remembrance of his vir- 
tues ; and let us imitate his Christian example. O 



110 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAE. 

that we may die the death of the righteous, and that 
our last end may be like his." 

A few days later a resolution of the board of 
trustees invested Professor McVickar with all the 
powers of the presidency of the college, " until the 
vacancy in that office shall be supplied, or until the 
further order of this board." From that time till 
the 9th of December there was, doubtless, much 
repetition of the feelings and the scenes which, 
twelve years previous, accompanied the filling of the 
vacant professorship of moral philosophy. But now 
as then, in spite of strong feelings, my father made 
no personal efforts to further his own election, and he 
even went so far in the opposite direction as to write 
to Bishop Hobart to free him from a pledge which 
some years previously he had voluntarily made to 
cast his vote in his favor under circumstances which 
had now occurred. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH: 1829. 

rriHE election to fill the vacancy of president in 
-*- Columbia College took place on the 9th of De- 
cember, 1829. To learn the result we will have 
Recourse, as usual, to our true but very partial wit- 
ness, Miss Bard, whose comforting philosophy never 
allowed an unmitigated ill to befall those she loved. 

" Decemher 9. — This day our dear Mr. McVickar, 
his family and friends, have met with a great disap- 
pointment in his losing the election for president of 
Columbia College. Mr. Duer carried it by one vote. 
But I consider it a dispensation of Providence for 
good. Such a character as Mr. McVickar's, so pure, 
so religious, so moral, with talents, ability, and en- 
ergy, yet withal so cool, so dispassionate, and self- 
possessed, in every way so suited for the station, 
must have carried it, had not God designed him some 
higher blessing by withholding it." 

And she was right. My father's own judgment 
soon told him so, and his future life confirmed it. 
"Without entering on possible good that might have 
resulted to the college from his presidency, the effect 
of the official dignity upon himself must have been 
unfavorable. He was, even then, suffering alarm- 



112 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

ingly from overwork, and those who knew him best 
knew that nothing would have induced him, imme- 
diately after entering upon new duties as president, 
to ask leave of absence for relaxation and health. 
Yet the European tour, which he soon made, proba- 
bly saved his life, or at least made of him almost a 
new man. Twelve years of steady book and routine 
labor, from the age of thirty, in a few prescribed 
courses of study, must have made, even in his elastic 
mind, deep grooves, which a few years more of un- 
broken work might have turned into unyielding ruts. 
But now, under the freedom soon to be his, he was 
to exchange books for men, and the lecture-room for 
the world, with the happiest possible result upon his 
whole character and after life. And finally, that 
ability to give more and more of his time to the dis- 
tinct claims of his sacred profession, which increasing 
familiarity with the subjects of his class lectures 
allowed, would, as president of the college, have 
been quite inadmissible. Thus would the Church 
have lost the benefit of his wise and conciliatory 
counsels, and he himself been deprived in his declin- 
ing years of his greatest happiness and richest source 
of comfort. We may, therefore, agree with his then 
venerable aunt, that " God designed him some higher 
blessing by withholding this." And often, in later 
years, have I heard him express deep thankfulness 
that his future had thus been ordered contrary to his 
own desires. Still it would be incorrect to say that 
this was not a great disappointment. Its depths may 
be measured from the following letter, which, as the 



OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH. 113 

object of this memoir is to rejflect a life rather than 
its fairer side alone, is here given entire : — 

CoLTTMBiA College, December 19, 1829, 
To Mr. William Duer, President elect of ColuiMa College. 

Dear Sir, — I have to acknowledge the receipt 
of yours of the 15th, and in reply to state that the 
trustees had anticipated the request it contained of 
my continuing in charge of the college until your 
actual entrance on the duties of your new station. I 
have also to thank you for the assurances it contains 
of unchanged sentiments towards me. Which, while 
I fully reciprocate, permit me to observe that I am 
not aware of anj^thing during the late contest that 
could make such assurance necessary. My college 
course has ever been an open one, and in appearing 
as a candidate for the presidency, I but pressed a claim 
which all admitted to be a natural and obvious one, 
and which for years had been kept before me by 
more than one leading; member of the board of 
trustees. Permit me, therefore, to say that we stood 
in such different relations to this object as scarcely 
to admit that reciprocity of reasoning you apply to it. 
With you it was but one prize out of many to which 
your talents might aspire, — one external to your pro- 
fession and brought before you but at the moment of 
decision. To me it was the only prize which was or 
could be offered in life, — one for which I thought 
myself fitted by natural talent, for which I knew my- 
self qualified by long experience ; — one which had 
been kept in view during twelve years of unremitted 



114 LIFE OF JOHN MOVJCKAR. 

exertion, and in some measure, I might say, earned 
by years of voluntary labor far beyond the require- 
ments of my professorship, and by means of which the 
college was allowed to go on unembarrassed during 
the almost continued indisposition of the late presi- 
dent. These are circumstances which make the 
question to me a singular one, such as no other man's 
feelings are likely rightly to appreciate, and the decis- 
ion of it to be felt by me as a hard, I could almost say, 
an ungrateful one, since my zeal was turned to my 
condemnation. 

Such are my feelings on this subject, and I think 
that you will agree with me that no man in my situ- 
ation, conscious of the fair claims which spring from 
undivided faithfulness, and a long course of honorable 
exertion, could think or feel otherwise. Still it is a 
question remote from personal feeling, and as it is now 
decided, I feel it to be my duty not merely to submit, 
but, both as a man and a Christian to turn from all 
fruitless speculation on the past, and in the duties 
which lie before me, and in the thankful enjoyment of 
the domestic blessings by which I am surrounded, to 
forget the only disappointment, I may say, which life 
has yet taught me. 

With renewed assurances that my best counsel and 
advice shall ever be at your service and in the inter- 
ests of the college, 

Beheve me, etc., etc., 

J. McVlCKAR. 

It is but fair to the trustees of the college to state 



OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH. 115 

that they were not forgetful of these extra services. 
On the 2d of February, 1830, the board of trustees 
passed resolutions handsomely acknowledging the 
same, and appointing a committee to procure and 
present a testimonial in the shape of books. These, 
large and rare illustrated volumes, with the imprint 
of the college, are still preserved as cherished heir- 
looms. 

My father was true to the resolve expressed in the 
conclusion of the above letter. He indulged in no 
vain regrets. He showed no diminution of zeal, and 
we quickly find him as much interested as ever in 
all that tended to advance the usefulness or reputa- 
tion of the college. 

A memorandum in his handwriting, dated a month 
later than the above letter, gives a sketch of a pro- 
posed plan, which was only partially carried out, for 
enlarging the influence of the college under a modi- 
fied university system. The subject being one of 
present interest, I subjoin the chief points of the pro- 
posed plan, which was in accordance with a statute 
then recently passed by the board of trustees. 

In addition to the regular classes which were en- 
tered for the course of arts, admission was to be 
granted to those who might desire to attend any part 
of the scientific, literary, or classical courses of in- 
struction, upon the payment of fifteen dollars per 
annum for each department thus attended. As soon 
as numbers justified it, they would be formed by the 
board into classes according to their respective pro- 
ficiency. Also, beside the regular instruction in the 



116 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR 

lecture-room, courses of lectures, accommodated to 
the wants of the public, were to be delivered in the 
various branches of literature and science. Applica- 
tions were to be in order at once for each or all of 
the following courses, dependent for their delivery 
on the public demand, namely, Political Economy, 
Greek Literature, Practical Mechanics, Astronomy, 
Italian and French Literature, to be delivered by 
Professors McVickar, Moore, Ren wick, Anderson, 
Dupont, and Verren. After which, other and fuller 
courses were promised, according to the demand. 

Columbia College, while slow to be making ten- 
tative experiments in education, had always shown 
herself willing and able to meet all the legitimate de- 
mands of New York city and its neighborhood for 
high education. The closeness, however, and con- 
servative character of her corporation, her high ap- 
preciation of classical learning, and her churchly ori- 
gin, for hardly anything more denominational than 
that was ever charged against her, created enemies, 
and at this time they all combined in the attempt to 
give her a secondary position, by establishing in New 
York a great university of practical science, which 
should unite in itself all the literary and scientific 
bodies in the city. 

The effort failed, and Columbia was none the worse 
for the attempt she had made to meet what had been 
claimed to be this large unsupplied demand for a 
wider university course. The demand, however, was 
a fictitious one ; but few of the outside lectures were 
called for, and but a small number of students availed 



OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH. 117 

themselves of the scientific or voluntary courses which 
were from that time, by statute, allowed. 

The course on Political Economy was the first one 
delivered. The following from the " New York 
American " of February 23d and 25th, 1830, is inter- 
esting,, as probably coming from the pen of its editor, 
Charles King, afterwards himself president of the 
college, and as adding some little touches of infor- 
mation respecting the subject of our memoir : — 

" On Thursday evening Professor McVickar will 
deliver in the hall of Columbia College, a lecture in- 
troductory to the open course of Political Economy, 
which, in pursuance of the late statute of the trustees 
of Columbia College, he is about to give. Of his 
ability in this branch, our community needs no new 
assurance, for he has, on several occasions of deep 
interest to the business and pursuits of the great mass 
of our citizens, made his voice heard, and proclaimed 
sound doctrine in plain and forcible language. This 
is a course which will, we presume, test pretty decis- 
ively the extent of that desire and thirst for instruc- 
tion in useful knowledge which is supposed to exist 
in this city." 

In the same journal, two days later : — 

" We attended at the college lecture-room last 
evening to hear Professor McVickar's introductory 
lecture, and were more than gratified with the en- 
larged views and elegant illustrations of the science 
of political economy which we heard from the pro- 
fessor. 

Mr. McVickar's voice and manner are particularly 



118 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VJCKAR. 

pleasing, and, on that account, he is admirably quali- 
fied for a public lecturer. His introductory was, not- 
withstanding the weather, numerously attended, and 
we are quite sure that his sound, practical views upon 
banks, upon general education, and upon the impor- 
tance of free trade, must have given universal satisfac- 
tion. We trust that his lectures will be properly 
patronized, believing, as we do, that they will prove 
highly beneficial to all classes of society." 

This lecture was, at the request of some English 
friends, afterwards printed by the author, that same 
year, during his stay in London. And from the ad- 
vertisement we take these few lines, as showing the 
result of the whole university scheme. 

" The introductory part of the lecture may require, 
not only apology, but explanation. It relates to the 
scheme of a university then current in New York, 
grounded upon the alleged inadequacy of the college, 
to which the lecturer belonged, to supply the wants 
of the city. The popular cry was for a new institu- 
tion ; the friends of the college, while they doubted 
the necessity, argued for enlargement, as both more 
safe and more economical ; and the mention of it is 
here retained as adding another proof, by the fail- 
ure of the whole plan, that these loose schemes of 
education are more showy than sound, and can never 
become a substitute for the regular study and aca- 
demic discipline of youth." 

As a part of the university plan then proposed, 
the trustees made a proposition to the Navy Depart- 
ment, offering facilities in the college for the instrue- 



OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH. 119 

tion of the midshipmen and young officers stationed 
at New York harbor, and Professor McVickar was 
sent to Washington to explain to the authorities there 
its nature and advantages. It fell through, but from 
a home letter we obtain some interesting details of the 
visit, and some of the causes of failure : — 

Washington, April 1, 1830. 

. . . . At nine, I meet by appointment Gen- 
eral Hayne (Mr. Webster's opponent). He is chair- 
man of the Naval Committee in the Senate, where 
our only hope lies, unless I can effect something with 
the President, on whom I call at half past two. I 
will add another page to-night and tell you how I fare. 
. . . . General Hayne I found in his parlor, 
rather a small man, youthful in looks, though called 
forty -five, very gentlemanly and conversable, but 
with a tone of great decision. He was very frank, 
explained his views, and put his opposition on the 
ground of its economy. He was for a great naval 
school. The government had money, and would 
spend it, so expense was no consideration. " But," 
said I, " is there not a previous question a legislator 
should ask, Why the Government should have a sur- 
plus revenue? " — "True," said he, " but there I de- 
spair." — "Then," said I, " you are no good citizen." 
This brought on varied talk in which we generally 
coincided, and I took my leave with his speeches in 
my pocket, with the impression made by a clear, warm- 
hearted man, but not a rival to Webster. 

At seven o'clock, Mr. Hone, Mr. White, and my- 



120 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

self drove to the palace, as they term it. We were 
ushered through a gi'eat and desolate looking haU 
into a splendid parlor, ceilings twenty-five feet high. 
The room was empty, the President engaged with 
the heads of department, hut we were begged to 
wait his leisure. He soon came down accompanied 
by two gentlemen. The three ladies of his family 
were soon after introduced, Mrs. Donaldson his niece, 
a young lady, and Mrs. Haynes of Charleston. Tea 
and coffee were then served, and as Mrs. Webster 
waited our return, we soon after withdrew. On tak- 
ing leave, the President begged me to come up early 
in the morning, and he would have some conversa- 
tion with me about our plan, and named half past 
nine, when I shall attend him, and if I can make a 
favorable impression do not yet despair of bringing 
General H. to another view of it. The chairman 
of the committee in the House, though at first 
very hostile, I have brought over, though he is alto- 
gether an unfit man for chairman, and has no influ- 
ence. 

But I have not told you how I like the President. 
I tell you plainly that could I forget his name was 
Jackson, and all the associations connected with it, I 
should describe him as one of the most gentlemanly 
old men I have ever met with ; mild, courteous, and 
polite, with an air of sedateness, approaching to mel- 
ancholy, and with a tinge of disease or feeble health. 
On the whole, I should describe him as a very inter- 
esting man ; but I stop to leave room for a second 
picture. 



OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH. 121 

This second picture is not to be found, but a few 
extracts from a subsequent letter may be added : — 

" Many old persons to whom I am introduced 
speak to me of my father, and are very attentive to 
me on that account, among others General Smith of 
Maryland. Another came up ' to me at Mr. Web- 
ster's, ' Sir,' said he, ' yours was one of the greatest 
commercial houses of our country.' 

" With Chief Justice Marshall, Judge Livingston 
secured a bond of acquaintance. We had a long talk 
and walk together this afternoon ; he beat me in the 
first of course, but I was a little surprised to be dis- 
tanced by a man of eighty-four. I accompanied liim 
about half-way to Georgetown, and turned back for 
church, while he went on his solitary walk of eight 
or ten miles." 

Of an evening party at Mr. Webster's he writes : — 

" My time was divided between Mrs. Webster, as 
in duty bound and pleasure too, and Mr. Calhoun, 
whom I find rather a talented than a great man. 
Indeed, I have found but one great man and that is 
Webster. He walks among others with a weight of 
character and talent that overawes. What he says 
you remember ; there is a power and truth in it that 
one cannot forget." 

The following letter from Mr. Webster, written 
shortly after this visit to Washington, carries on our 
narrative. To some, perhaps, it will seem a good 
illustration of the above encomium, but though my 
father's views, as he grew older, became less enthusi- 
astic on the subject of political economy, he never was 



122 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

willing to bow to Mr. Webster's prophetic dictum of 
its practical uselessness, only granting that " it must 
find public men true to their trust." 

"Washington, April 24, 1830. 

My dear Sir, — I cannot but be glad to learn 
that you contemplate a voyage to Europe, which 
promises so much for health and so much for infor- 
mation and reasonable gratification. I almost envy 
those who have the means of enjoying so high a 
pleasure. 

As it happens, I do not feel authorized to give you 
letters to Mr. McLane. If you propose to go to 
France, I will with pleasure give you, or send to your 
address in England, a letter to Mr. Rives. 

You will receive in a day or two, half a dozen of 
my speeches. I hope you will have with you other 
and better samples of our American efforts in debate. 
I take the liberty to send a copy or two of a speech 
on the tariff in 1824. Probably you never read it. 
It purports to treat some subjects which belong to 
your department. 

Will you allow me, my dear sir, to hazard one little 
prophecy. It is that when you shall have read every- 
thing ever published on political economy, and seen 
and studied the states of Europe, you will come to 
the conclusion that political economy is a science of 
wise and clear general rules, but so vastly diversi- 
fied in their practical application as to be worse than 
useless in the hands of any who have not the broad- 
est knowledge and the nicest discrimination ; and 



OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH. 123 

that so many circumstances belong to each particular 
case that no wide general principle can be safely 
trusted to govern it. 

Mrs. Webster begs you and your wife and daughter 
to accept her very best wishes and kindest regards. 
We all hope for you a pleasant tour and a happy re- 
turn. 

I am, dear sir, with much regard, 
Your obedient servant, 

Daniel Webster. 

Rev. John McVickak, New York. 

This proposed voyage to Europe had become al- 
most a necessity through failing healtli. Thirteen 
years of steadily increasing intellectual work had 
naturally told upon my father's not over hardy con- 
stitution, and his physician had lately insisted on the 
necessity of rest and change of scene. This was not 
to be wondered at when we think what he was then 
doing. The whole of the historical, rhetorical, intel- 
lectual, moral, and political departments of the college, 
with the three higher classes rested upon him, with- 
out even the aid of a single tutor, which he had often 
asked for in vain. His report as professor for this 
year takes up four pages of closely written foolscap, 
principally detailing the work done. The mode of 
doing it is thus stated : — 

" In reference to the whole course, the professor 
would observe that his aim is rather to form opinions 
and to discipline the mind by leading the student to 
exercise his own judgment, than to load his memory 



124 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

with the language or thoughts of others. Though 
less favorable for display on the part of either teacher 
or scholar, he is satisfied that it is most to the real 
advantage of the student, and constitutes, in fact, the 
only permanent influence of intellectual and moral 
education." 

Add to this the outside course of lectures on polit- 
ical economy and the many questions of finance 
which had lately enlisted his pen, and we find how 
well prepared he must have been to enjoy just that 
kind of rest which foreign travel,' better than any- 
thing else, is able to give. At such a time, if not 
actually broken down, a man feels, as it were, his 
immortality, and the greater the variety of bodily and 
intellectual excitement the more complete the rest, 
and in this case never was there a busier six months, 
seldom a happier one, and never a more complete 
restoration to health. 

On the 24th of April, 1830, the board of trustees 
of the college gave to Professor McVickar, in a set 
of complimentary resolutions, leave of absence for 
six months, or longer if his health should require it, 
requesting him to suggest some one to supply his 
place during his absence. Mr. Beach Lawrence was 
named, and soon after appointed to deliver the lec- 
tures on political economy, and his young friend and 
pupil, the Rev. Edward Griffin, for the department 
of rhetoric and belles-lettres. To young Griffin 
my father was much attached. He had hoped in 
this way to bring him to the notice of the college 
authorities, and get for him a permanent position in 



OVERWORK AND FAILING HEALTH. 125 

the promised division of his own chair. He entered 
upon and performed his temporary duties in a most 
satisfactory manner, but while steps were being taken 
to carry out the very plan which had been hoped for, 
he himself was called away by sudden death.* " And 
the task undertaken by him was so performed," 
writes my father in a memoir afterwards prepared by 
him, " as to add another pang to the mind of his 
friend in the recollection of his loss, namely, the 
inability of returning thanks. He lived but to give 
evidence how well fitted he was for the duties he had 
undertaken, and was then withdrawn to a higher 
sphere of usefulness, we may trust, as well as happi- 
ness." 

On the 2d of May, 1830, my father, accompanied 
by my mother and two elder sisters, sailed for Lon- 
don. New York was a different city then from 
what it is now. And nothing illustrates it better 
than finding a short editorial like the following in the 
chief evening paper : — 

" In the packet ship Ontario, which sailed this 
morning for London, Professor McVickar, of Colum- 
bia College, with his family, took passage. The 
impaired health of the professor is, we are sorry to 
state, the immediate motive of this voyage. Relax- 
ation from arduous duties, a cheerful season, change 
of scene, and the affectionate attentions of his family, 
will, it is earnestly hoped, restore this highly re- 
spected individual to his wonted health ; and cer- 
tainly, if there be any healing balm in the solicitude 
of numerous friends, and in the anxiety of each, as 



126 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

well among the youths committed to his instruction 
in the college as among many of our oldest and most 
respectable citizens, to testify at the moment of his 
departure, regret for its cause, and personal regard 
ft>r the individual, the thronged deck of the steam- 
boat, that bore the professor and his family to the 
ship, must have ministered this healing." 



CHAPTER IX. 

LONDON society: 1830. 

A EUROPEAN tour, in the year 1 830, was, to an American, a 
great event. And if the presence of an American in foreign 
circles was not the same, it was, what is by no means the case at 
present, a rare occurrence, allowing of exceptional privileges. A 
manuscript of journal letters addressed to Miss Bard, affords material 
for this tour of six months. In days of fewer books and fewer 
travellers this might properly have made an independent publication. 
But as it is, my readers will probably be as well pleased to allow me 
to read it for them, briefly outline the tour, and weave into it, in 
the words of the journal, whatever may be deemed of special 
interest. 

The voyage was a short and prosperous one of twenty-four days, 
differing from the steamer voyages of the present time, not only in 
its greater length, but in its united social intercourse. An editor 
was found among the passengers for a semi-weekly gazette, and wit 
and humor made friends and shortened tedious days. 

After arrival, London was, for the time, made the head-quarters of 
the party, and a suite of rooms taken in Regent Street. Here, 
calls from Mr. DeRham of New York, and Washington Irving, at 
once made the strange city seem somewhat homelike. 

Sunday Night. — I hardly know whether to call 
this Sunday, it has been so little like one. I never 
felt so great a longing for the solemn, quiet services 
of our Church as I do after being excited by the elo- 
quent vehemence of Dr. Chalmers, and disgusted by 
the rant and grotesque acting of the once celebrated 
Edward Irving. To listen to the first was a real 



128 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

treat ; to the last, I can only say I felt, on quitting his 
chapel, as if I required a lustration to purify and 
cleanse me from such folly and insanity 

On returning from Richmond to-day, Tuesday, 
we strolled through the Park, the seat of Lord Sid- 
mouth ; the Marquis of Wellesley has also a small seat 
here; though I gazed at neither with the same in- 
terest I did at a small but neat old almshouse, over 
the stone gate of which was cut these words : " I 
will pay unto the Lord the vows I made in my 
trouble." 

We drank tea at home, having ordered the car- 
riage at half past nine for Mrs. Bates' musical party, 
and as this is our first London soiree, I must give 
you some idea of it. Mr. Bates is an American by 
birth, but now the leading partner in the great house 
of Baring, Bi'others & Co. He is also the enter- 
taining partner, and has an allowance on that score 
of twelve thousand dollars a year. They occupy a 
noble house on Portland Place. On entering, our 
names were announced from the foot of the stairs to 
the landing, and again to the drawing-room door, 
both folds of which were thrown open as we entered. 
The etiquette is an awkward one, the ladies walk in 
alone, the gentlemen following. The party was small, 
with some rare musical talent, and a moderation in 
the refreshments which, in New York, would be 
termed mean, but which here is universal in good 
society, and is, I think, in better taste than our over- 
loaded and extravagant profusion. Among the rest, 
I was introduced to Leslie and West the painters, and 



LONDON SOCIETY. 129 

to O'Meara, Napoleon's medical biographer. In the 
case of the latter I fell into an awkward mistake, 
confounding him with Dr. Stockoe, who also attended 
Bonaparte, and who had visited us at the College. 
Fortunately I stopped short when I found myself 
going wrong in reminding him of his visit, and 
changed the topic, instead of blundering on with ex- 
planations as one often does, making bad worse. 

Friday., June 4. — Joined by Mr. Richmond at 
four, we drove to the palace of St. James to inquire 
after the health of his Majesty. We alighted in the 
midst of guards and gentlemen in waiting, were 
ushered through passages and salo7is up-stairs into 
the receiving rooms, where Lord Fife, the lord of 
the bedchamber, in waiting, stepped forward and 
presented to us for our inspection, the written bulle- 
tin of the morning, signed by the attending physi- 
cians. 

After our royal visit we drove to Mrs. Heber's, to 
whom we were engaged for this evening. Her resi- 
dence is in Clarence Terrace, one of the most beauti- 
ful ranges of buildings in Regent's Park. Admitted 
by a servant in livery, we were announced and ushered 
into a moderate sized but beautiful library, where Mrs. 
Heber sat at a table covered with books, and writing. 
From what 1 had heard of her personal appearance 
I expected little, — so little that I was agreeably 
disappointed. Though large, she is graceful, with a 
very sweet voice, and pleasing, courteous, and even 
kind manners. She has engaged us to a breakfast 
on Tuesday next. On inquiring for her daughters 
a 



ISO LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

she sent for them. They were both sweet children; 
Harriet the very image, judging from his portrait, of 
her sainted father. We parted greatly, and, we 
would fain hope, mutually pleased. 

Carriage at the door again, after dinner, to take 
mQ to visit Coleridge at Highgate. Mr. Ker was my 
conductor. We stopped, on our way, for Rev. Ed- 
ward Irving, much to my annoyance. We found 
him in a great house, miserably furnished, at tea, 
with his wife and two little children. After tea, 
with a solemn air, lie laid his hand on the heads of 
the two children, prayed for and blessed them. We 
then set off for a four mile ride to Highgate. Mr. 
Irving grew upon me. I found in him much sim- 
plicity, and better sense than I expected. Coleridge 
was talked of, — an enthusiast, worshipped and idol- 
ized by enthusiasts. On reaching our destination we 
were ushered in and introduced to the idol. But let 
me first tell you something of his early history. The 
son of a clergyman, a Blue-coat boy, an Oxford 
scholar, in early life a skeptic, and wild enthusiast, 
in concert with Southey and Lovell, he planned a 
retirement from the world and all the errors of a 
social state. The three then married three sisters, 
but Coleridge proved most unfortunate ; he became 
an opium eater, separated from his wife, and sank 
into almost a lost character. At that time his pres- 
ent kind host. Dr. Gilman, by accident being called 
in as his medical adviser, from a feeling of pity and 
respect, invited him to his house for a fortnight that 
he might better attend to him, and has kept him for 



LONDON SOCIETY. 131 

fifteen years in every comfort and luxury. His ap- 
pearance is of a man over sixty, of powerful make, 
large head, massive features, and large and expres- 
sive eyes, though rather dreamy. There was no 

company, but his married daughter, Mrs. C , one 

of the prettiest and most learned women in England. 
His conversation is that of a lofty religious enthu- 
siast, but full of deep and original thought, with a 
flow and power of expression I have never heard 
equaled. His topics were varied, but with a con- 
tinued tendency to the deep and personal truths of 
Christianity. On one point I ventured to oppose 
him, and found him a powerful, though coui'teous 
opponent. 

This circumstance is referred to more at large in a communication 
on the subject of Coleridge sent by my father to the " Churchman," 
after his return, in which is the following : — 

In the course of the evening the Rev. E. Irving, 
who was one of our small circle, di^ew from his 
pocket a letter, and prefacing it by a call on Mr. 
Coleridge, to counsel him in his spiritual doubts, as 
" being the man," said he, " from whom I have 
gained more wisdom than from all other men living," 
proceeded to read a communication just received 
from the celebrated Thomas Erskine, of Edinburgh, 
containing the particulars of the first wonderful 
eflPusion of tongues, as it was termed, in the family of 
the Campbells, near Greenock. The anxious inquiry 
of Mr. Irving was, " How is this to be regarded ? " 
Mr. Coleridge, to whom it probably was not new, 
being thus addressed as an oracle, answered with 



132 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

corresponding solemnity and certainty, without the 
ambiguity complained of in oracular responses of old, 
" Sir, I make no question but that it is the work of 
the Holy Spirit, and a foretaste of that spiritual 
power which is to be poured forth on the reviving 
Church of Scotland." Though evidently in a circle 
who eagerly hailed the decision, I felt myself im- 
pelled to speak, and press upon him its want of accord 
with the Scriptural account of the gift of tongues, 
and its unworthiness not alone of the wisdom of God 
but of the reason of man. To my protestation he 
listened respectfully, though evidently unwillingly, 
and immediately replied, " Was not the case the same 
in the Apostles' days ? Is not St. Paul's argument 
in the fourteenth chapter of First Corinthians founded 
upon the supposition that the saints often spoke in 
tongues which no man understood ? " Pressed again 
by its incongruity with Scripture facts, more especially 
with the record of the first day of Pentecost, he 
finally cut short the argument with denying the 
genuineness of the chapter that contained it, and 
concluded with reiterating his first assertion. Such 
is Mr. Coleridge, and such are some of his wild opin- 
ions. But with all his errors he both was and is a 
wonderful man. " Sir," said Edward Irving to me 
after this interview, " his words sink into my mind 
like seeds into the ground ; they grow up afterwards, 
I know not how, and bear fruit." 

Strangely enough, my father was destined to awaken in others, as 
well as experience himself, this very feeling, so aptly expressed by 
Irving, and so true, respecting one against whom he was, at this 



LONDON SOCIETY. 133 

time, so evidently prejudiced. His preface to the American edition 
of the " Aids to Reflection " having done much to make Coleridge a 
favorite with thinking minds on this side of the Atlantic. 

Monday., June 7. — Our dinner at Lady Affleck's 
was quite gay, though the party consisted but of four 
octogenarians, three ladies and one gentleman, beside 
Lady Affleck and ourselves. The ladies were of a 
species we know little of in America, wealthy old 
dowagers who keep up at eighty the spirits and fashion 
of their youth. These were, besides, clever in their 
way, and might have sat to Walter Scott as originals. 
The gentleman — but you may judge of his years 
when I tell you he was the confidential secretary of 
Warren Hastings in India, and retained the dress 
and manners of those most aristocratic days. He 
and I occupied the head and foot of the table, and 
entertained each other after the ladies had gone : he 
with tales of " auld lang syne," and I with the won- 
ders of our western wilds. He is enthusiastic in his 
praise of Hastings, and insists that instead of being 
cruel or rapacious in his government, he was kind 
and liberal even to a fault. 

Such, my dear aunt, is London life, and certainly 
not without its attractions. To me it is full of inter- 
est and improvement, and thus far of health. The 
last will, I trust, continue, that I may return and be 
to my dear children what a father should be. God 
bless you all. 

Friday Morning., June 10. — At twelve yesterday 
Mrs. Heber called and we drove out to Clapham, 
about four miles, a little beyond which we approached 



134 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Battersea Rise, Sir Robert Inglis' very noble country 
mansion. Among the company were Sir Thomas 
and Lady Acland, with whom we are to breakfast on 
Wednesday next ; Sir James Mackintosh, who is the 
ablest man I have yet met with, — his conversation 
strongly marked and not a little Johnsonian ; and 
Mr. Wilberforce, full of kindness and warm-hearted 
enthusiasm, who insisted on our giving him a day next 
week at his seat, Highwood Hill, about ten miles 
from London. His appearance is that of deformity 
rather than decrepitude, and would be painful in the 
extreme were it not redeemed by the cheerful ex- 
pression of manner and voice ; but his mind is full of 
activity and intelligence, though certainly he cannot 
be less than seventy-five years of age, having entered 
Parliament, as he told me, in 1780. It was delight- 
ful to listen to his conversation with Sir James 
Mackintosh, which turned on the changes they had 

witnessed in public life 

Sunday Evening. — From Mr. Hume's we reached 
Lady Newton's last evening at a late hour. I had 
scarcely entered when Captain Franklin, now Sir 
John, came up to me, and in the kindest manner 
welcomed me to England, reproached me with not 
letting him know at once of our arrival, and intro- 
duced me to Lady Franklin. Lady Franklin is a 
most lovely woman, and we had a long and pleasant 
talk about her husband's travels, etc. They seem 
truly kind, and in proof we found on our return to- 
day from our long church that they had been to see 
us, and soon after got a pressing invitation for Satur- 
day next. 



LONDON SOCIETY, 135 

At half past nine this morning we entered West- 
minster Abbey while the organ was pealing through 
its aisles. There is no describino- the feelings which 
this building inspires. I am confirmed by it in my 
preference of Gothic architecture for religious uses, 
and am pleased that I have labored to introduce it in 
America. But of all churches give me that in which 
we shall all meet again on our return, to unite in 
grateful thanks for all the mercies of our Heavenly 
Father. That will be to me as a temple not made 
with hands. 

Monday Eveiiing. — I went out this morning to- 
pay some visits. My first was to Lord Lyndhui'st's, 
to see his mother, Mrs. Copley, Mrs. Startin's sister, 
at whose house I was intimate twenty-five years ago. 
She was down at their seat, so I left my card. My 
next was to Sir H. Parnell, who read me a note from; 
Mr. Tooke, begging him to engage me at their great 
politico-economical dinner next week. I found him- 
up to his ears in papers, being full of Parliamentary 
business. . Leaving this, I drove to Lord Stowell's 
(Sir John Scott), whom I had also known well twenty- 
five years ago. On sending up my card with the 
mention of my being from America, he immediately 
received me with great friendliness, and recalled with 
wonderful accuracy the circumstances of our earlier 
acquaintance. His health is much broken, so that he 
lives altogether retired from company and seldom 
quits the house, which he regretted, he said, on my 
account, but proffered every kindness, and promised, 
if admissible, to get our ladies admitted behind the 



136 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

throne in the House of Lords, a privilege now less 
easily accorded, in consequence of some indiscretion, 
I think, of Lady Holland's, He asked me what 
changes I saw in England. I answered, " An equal 
increase of wealth and democracy." " Ah," said he, 
" too true ; you find us in a bad way ! " He speaks 
warmly of America as a friend, and benevolently 
and kindly on all subjects. It is a great gratification 
to have had this friendly conversation with him. He 
is the great lawyer of the age, and is leaving behind 
none equal to him on the great questions of belliger- 
ent and mutual rights, and in general of international 
law. I have sent him, at his request, Mr. Webster's 
great speech. 

Tuesday^ Ibth. — We drove, to-day, to Pimlico, to 
Chantry's. His works have genius and truth in 
them ; no personifications, no allegories, I noted it to 
him, " No Fauns," said I, " blowing trumpets, etc.," 
" Ah," said he, " I leave that to greater geniuses." 
Three splendid pieces of Canova's are here, belong- 
ing to the king. I never was more struck with the 
progressive steps of art. Canova's at once cast all 
around into the shade. Chantry's castings in brass 
are on a -great scale. We found the men at work 
putting together a gigantic brazen figure of the poor 
dying king. 

Friday Morning^ 11 o'clock. — Bustle, bustle, noth- 
ing but hurry and bustle in London. It has kept me 
from my journal since Tuesday night, and I can now 
hardly remember the world of scenes that lies in that 
long interim. On Wednesday morning we had a 



LONDON SOCIETY. 137 

delightful breakfast at Sir Thomas Aeland's with 
Lady Newton, Mrs. Heber, Mrs. Thornton, etc., etc. 
He is a baronet of old family, a descendant of the 
Accalans who came over with the Conqueror, a lead- 
ing member in the House, very wealthy and hospita- 
ble, a religious and an educated man. The Right 
Hon. Wilmot Horton, whom I was to have met, sent 
an apology, but with a particular request to see me 
as soon as convenient after breakfast. I called, and 
found him in committee of the Colonization Society, 
of which he was president, into whose views and 
weaknesses I was soon initiated by being requested 
to take part in their deliberations. I found them 
disjointed and at utter variance among themselves, 
and each party looking to new settlements in the 
United States for proofs, and to my testimony of the 
facts as likely to be in their favor. The views I gave 
agreed, I found, with the chairman, Mr. Horton, 
who stood alone, clear and intelligent, among vision- 
ary or interested men. It was an amusing scene. 
Mr. Horton and myself planned to meet again, and 
yesterday I received a long communication from him 
containing queries, etc., with his works. 

Saturday^ June 19. — Taking a hasty dinner after 
a short visit to my medical friend. Dr. Johnson, we 
bade adieu to London, having entered it as strangers 
three weeks ago, and now leaving it as if it were a 
second home. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE LAKE POETS : 1830. 

I TOOK a seat this morning, June 26, on the Bris- 
tol coach, starting with the rising sun. At eight 
we learned the news of the king's death, as we passed 
Windsor with the flags half-mast, and carried on the 
news westward, the horses at full speed, for one hun- 
dred miles. The rate was fifteen miles an hour sav- 
ing the short stops in changing our four panting 
steeds for fresh ones, which seldom took more than 
one minute and a few seconds, they always standing 
ready at the door, brilliant with harness and high 
keeping, and grooms at their heads. I thought that 
my neck would have been broken ;' but such was the 
excellence of the ^roads, the coach, and tlie driving, 
that the motion was scarcely sensible, and at eight 
p. M. arrived in safety at Clifton, at the friendly home 
of Mrs. Church, where the ladies had preceded me. 

Sunday afternoon we went into Bristol to hear the 
celebrated Robert Hall, a friend and classmate of Sir 
James Mackintosh, and not unlike him in talent. I 
had rather listen to him than Chalmers. There is 
less of splendor but more repose of manner, like 
a consciousness of power, and, I think, a more logical 
mind. I never heard such a calm full stream of 



THE LAKE POETS. 139 

thought and language in which there was nothing 
to alter, either in sentiment or expression. For 
power over his hearers he is too rapid in delivery, 
and a little too monotonous. 

Thursday Evening, July 1. — Langollen. — 
The windows of our inn looked out on the lovely- 
winding Dee, just as it quits the most beautiful vale 
that eye ever rested on. Our ride to-day has had the 
drawback of almost constant rain. On leavino- our 
excellent inn at noon, we drove fourteen miles to 
Shrewsbury on the Severn, which we found dressed 
out in its holiday garb, the bells ringing a merry peal 
while the ceremony of proclaiming the new king, 
William IV., took place. 

Friday Morning. — We rose early and joined a 
family of tourists in a morning walk to Miss Pon- 
sonby's cottage. On the cottage was hung out, 
strange union, the armorial bearings, on a mourning 
hatchment, of her lost companion. Lady Eleanor But- 
ler, daughter of the late Duke of Ormond, whose 
tomb we afterwards visited. The character of both 
these ladies, as I learned by minute inquiry in the 
cottages around, though strongly marked by eccen- 
tricity, has long been that of active benevolence, and 
warm attachment to each other. Report gives them 
credit for a wise though romantic choice. For my- 
self, I doubt, and I felt an anxious wish to learn from 
the survivor the result of their experiment in seek- 
ing in retirement what the world could not give. 
However, as it was not a question to be asked, we 
contented ourselves with conjectures, only concluding 



140 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

that the choice of a spot could never have been more 
happy. Though what is singular in those who had 
the power to choose, the cottage itself does not com- 
mand any of the views which have made the vale so 
celebrated, nor does it exhibit much other external 
proof of a refined taste. 

Saturday/, July 10. — Lov7 Wood Inn. — ■ This 
is the most beautiful point of Windermere, a lone 
house on the very brink of the lake, and only six 
miles from where we slept last night. Yet we have 
not been idle. After breakfast, at Bowness, took 
boat and crossed the lake, sketching a little, and 
quarreling with our sketches because they would not 
convey the hundredth part of the beauty we saw. 
Returning from this delightful excursion, we drove on 
to our present inn, and hence to Mr. Wordsworth's 
" Rydal Mount," leaving our plans for the night to 
be settled on our return. Our reception was most 
hospitable. Mr. Wordsworth, a tall, grave, simple 
mannered man, apparently about sixty ; his wife, kind, 
beyond what strangers had a right to expect, and his 
sister pleasing though less decided. We came upon 
them at the most awkward time of early dinner, but 
this caused but a short delay, after which a walk and 
animated conversation made all easy. The house is 
small and old-fashioned, but comfortable and roman- 
tically situated; Rydal Water is beneath you, and 
Windermere in the distance. Mr. Wordsworth talked 
much of Bishop Hobart's visit, remembered a discus- 
sion they had had about a word, and desired me to 
tell him that Capel was the Welsh corruption of 



THE LAKE POETS. 141 

Chapel. He lives in retirement, with some local 
salary from government. He may be called a pure 
•contemplatist. Speaking of Wellington, he said he 
regarded his power as a military usurpation, and 
gave some anecdotes of his uncourteous demeanor to- 
wards the council, lying on the sofa, and uttering his 
dictum, " That won't do," etc. I could not make him 
understand that no danger existed of military domi- 
nation in the United States. After giving us a letter 
to Mrs. Hemans, who is staying in the neighbor- 
hood, and engaging us to an early tea to-morrow, we 
parted. 

Returning to our inn, we received a friendly mes- 
sage fi'om Mrs. Hemans and spent the hour till bed- 
time, partly in the romantic solitude of " Dove's 
Nest," and partly in an excursion with Mrs. H. and 
her interesting boys on this most lovely of lakes, and 
this most lovely of evenings we have yet had in Eng- 
land. 

Sunday., Wth. — Keswick. — Rode across the 
mountains, by Wordsworth's advice, to the retired 
village and model church of Conistone, on the banks 
of its OAvn placid lake. Heard a sermon full of sim- 
ple truth from a young clergyman of the name of 
Sands, with whom after church we formed acquaint- 
ance, and gave a seat in our roomy barouche as far 
as his home, which was a retired inn at the head and 
on the very shore of the lake, where we also stopped 
and took an early dinner. By half after four found 
ourselves again at Rydal Mount with a family toward 
whom we now feel as friends. It is a family fall of 



142 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

simple-hearted, kind feeling, and as for Wordsworth 
himself, from my knowledge of the author, I think I 
must retract whatever I have said or thought against 
his poetry. His conversation is fall of interest from 
deep feeling and talent, and marked by peculiar sim- 
plicity and modesty. We felt quite at home before 
we parted ; and bear with us many pleasing memo- 
rials of our short but delightful visit, among them 

the following lines written by the poet in A 's 

album : — 

" Hast thou seen with flash incessant, 
Bubbles gliding under ice, 
Bodied forth and evanescent, 

No one knows, by what device 1 
Such are thoughts — a wind-swept meadow 

Mimicking a troubled sea ; 
Such is Life, and Death a shadow 
From the Eock — Eternity. 

" Wm. Wordsworth. 
"Rtdal Mount, Uth July, 1830." 

Having sent back to our inn for fresh horses, we 
delayed parting to a late hour, and blessed the long 
twilight which enabled us to see our way through 
the intervening mountains to Keswick, our present 
home, sixteen miles^ where we arrived safely a little 
after ten o'clock. I forgot to mention Miss Curzon, 
staying at Wordsworth's, a lineal descendant of the 
great Alfred. Wordsworth mentioned this to me 
aside, and then got down a great volume of geneal- 
ogy, which made it clear to my doubting eyes. 

Monday^ July 12. — Just returned from a delight- 
ful evening at Mr. Southey's, where we found equal 



THE LAKE POETS. 143 

talent as at Wordsworth's, more an air of the world, 
more of fashion and elegance, but less, I would say, 
of that warm-hearted simplicity which delighted us at 
Rydal Mount. Our morning was wet and cold ; the 
ladies employed themselves within doors, while I 
found my way to Southey's residence prettily situated 
on a risino; s-round at the outskirts of the villao-e. I 
found Southey in his library with his only son, his 
last hope, a promising and pleasing boy of twelve, 
and a young man whom he introduced as his nephew. 
On returning to the inn, we took an early dinner, 
then ordered horses and took the tour of the lake, 
Derwent Water, visiting the fall and the rocks of 
Borrowdale. The hour of six brought us round to 
Southey's, according to promise, where we were 
kindly received. Mr. and Mrs. Southey, her sister, 
three pleasing daughters just grown up, a handsome 
cousin from Oxford, and two beaux from Cambridge, 
constituted the party. The house is splendidly fur- 
nished with literary treasures, and fashionable in all 
its arrangements. Wordsworth's noble bust is one 
of the greatest ornaments of the sitting-room here, as 
Southey's is at Wordsworth's. Southey has a strik- 
ing face, very like, I should say from the portrait, to 
that of his friend Henry Kirke White. He is free 
in conversation, but without the flow that gives 
interest and poetic power to Wordsworth's. He 
seems to me a true Englishman in the best sense of 
the term, looking with reverence and pride to the 
old virtues and institutions of his country, and seeing 
in their preservation the only safety in this age of rev- 



144 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

olution. His views are full of anxiety and apprehen- 
sion for the future. The property of the Church will 
not long, he said, rest untouched. Unless the Whig 
leaders can be finghtened into its defense the next 
session of Parliament will organize the attack ; which 
would have been made the present, he said, had the 
Duke felt himself strong enough. Wellington has, 
he thinks, broken the arm of his strength in yielding 
the Catholic question. Speaks well of Oxford, ill of 
Cambridge, and fears that this generation may not 
pass before the temple falls and another colony be 
transferred to our shores. 

This day, Tuesday, has been spent most agree- 
ably and profitably. After breakfast, Mr. Hill, the 
young Cambridge graduate, whom we had met at 
Southey's, came over by appointment with some 

papers and A 's book, in which Mr. Southey had 

written for her the following lines : — 

— " Both in civil and in barbarous states, 
The course of action takes its bias, less 
Prom meditation and the calm resolve 
Of wisdom, than from accident and temper. 
Private advantage at all cost pursued. 
Private resentments recklessly indulged. 
The humor, will, and pleasure of the leaders, 
The passions and the madness of the people, 
Under all climes, and in all forms of rule. 
Alike the one, the many, and the few ; • 
Among all nations of whatever tint. 
All languages, these govern everywhere ; 
The difference only is of less or more, 
As chance, to use the common speech, may sway ; 
In ■wiser words, as Providence directs. 

Robert Southey, Keswick, I3th July, 1830." 
From an unpublished poem. 



THE LAKE POETS. 145 

The lovely morning had tempted us to plan an 
excm'sion to the top of Skiddaw ; in this Mr. Hill im- 
mediately joined, and after running back for his min- 
eralogical hammer, etc., we set off with a guide, two 
ponies, a cloak, sketch-books, and provisions. I will 
not waste words in description ; it was a new and in- 
spiriting journey, and we grew stronger the higher 
we mounted. A bright sun, flying clouds, lakes, 
mountains, and rich valleys, like gardens, were above, 
around us, and beneath us. As we returned we found 
Mr. Southey waiting for us about half-way up the 
mountain. The more I converse with this celebrated 
man the more I am delio-hted. Moral and religious 
truth, and sound political principles, are all elevated 
in his mind into a warm-hearted enthusiasm, and ex- 
pressed in choice language but with the greatest sim- 
plicity and unpretendingness of manner. His views 
of the present state of England are, as I have said, 
gloomy. " Prepare," said he, as he shook my hand in 
parting, " prepare to receive in your happy country 
a new emigration of pilgrims." Finding we had no 
letter to Sir Walter Scott, while we were dining, he 
went home and wrote one for us, also to Mr. Morri- 
son of London, and proffered others which I thought 
we would not need. Bidding farewell with much 
regret, at five we left Keswick for Ullswater, the last 
of the lakes Ave shall visit. 

Mr. Hill accompanied us, and next morning, hav- 
ing taken boat on Ullswater, we landed near the head 
of the lake and walked some distance with our young 
friend, who was going to find his way across pathless 
moors and over the mountains, twenty miles, alone. 

10 



146 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

We parted with him with regret and some anxiety 
for his safety, as the day soon after became dark and 
stormy. He is a fair specimen of educated young 
Enghshmen, not over refined in sentiment or man- 
ners, but simple and pohte, having learning without 
pedantry, and science and accomplishment without 
conceit. Science being common makes it sit more 
easily upon the young men here than with us. Mr. 
Hill, for instance, is a learned and skillful mineralogist 
and entomologist without thinking his knowledge any- 
thing peculiar. Nor, in truth, is it. Thus, on Skid- 
daw, we meet at least six or eight young men strolling 
over its varied surface, some botanizing, with their 
tin cases at their backs, some with their hammers and 
bags of specimens, and one with his little net for 
catching insects and bottles for preserving them, all 
earnest in their own pursuits and happy in them. 
Thus does education tell more here than with us for 
the gratification of after life. The same difference, 
too, I have noticed in female education. Modern 
languages, when acquired, are more familiarly under- 
stood, and such skill with the pencil as with us would 
make an artist, seems to belong here to every well- 
educated young woman. 

Returning through a storm of rain, which almost 
flooded us in our open boat, to our inn, we took a 
hasty lunch and came on to Penrith, six miles ; quit- 
ting with regret the region of the lakes, where the 
gratification of months, I may say, has been crowded 
into the space of a few days. The scenery in leaving 
Ullswater immediately changed, and, though rich, 



THE LAKE POETS. 147 

was no longer picturesque. After leaving Penrith, 
twelve miles brought us to Carlisle. This began 
again to be classic ground. We thought of the Ro- 
man wall, and we looked with respect at the castle 
where the unhappy Mary was confined, the spot 
where Mclvor suffered, and the Solway Sands, where 
Redgauntlet made his abode among the fishermen. 
From Cai'lisle, nine miles to the last English village 
on the' border. Three miles further, two turnpike 
gates, close together, mark the now peaceful boundary 
line, one on the English the other on the Scotch side. 
Immediately after crossing we entered into a most 
romantic region. The banks of the Esk, with precip- 
itous sides and noble woods and dark ravines, remind- 
ing us of Scott's finest pictures, and justifying them 
all. A good Scotch tea with all its accompaniments 
is now sending us to a welcome bed at Langholm. 



CHAPTER XI. 

EDINBURGH SOCIETY: 1830. 

AT Selkirk we struck off from the direct road to 
Edinburgh, to take Abbotsford and Meh'ose in 
our way. On approaching Sir Walter Scott's we 
were struck with the noble castellated mansion, the 
splendid liveries, etc., an air of luxury, in short, I had 
not anticipated. Finding them not at home, I left 
our letter, together with my card, and drove on about 
two miles further, to " Chiefswood," where resides 
his daughter, Mrs. Lockhart, to whom we had also 
a letter from Mrs. Heber. Leaving our letter here 
also, from the same cause, we proceeded to visit an 
old friend whom we were certain of finding, I mean 
Melrose Abbey. While wandering among these 
splendid ruins, monuments equally of Gothic taste 
and modern barbarism, which filled us all with anger 
as well as admiration, a rather tall gentleman came 
in, and approaching us, introduced himself as Mr. 
Lockhart, saying that he and Mrs. L. and her father 
had reached home very shortly after we had quitted 
the house, and that he had followed us with all speed, 
the bearer of an invitation from both to spend that 
day with him and the next with Sir Walter and Miss 
Scott. The invitation was so complimentary, and 



EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 149 

the manner of it so kind, that the temptation to accept 
was great, but, on the whole, we thought it best to 
go on, promising, at his request, a visit on our return. 
Mr. Lockhart's appearance and manner are rather 
American than British ; of a thin and rather shght 
figure, black hair, face pallid, approaching to sallow, 
and with a dash of bilious in his sentiments as well 
as his complexion. After some talk he introduced us 
to the clerk of the parish, a gossiping old man who 
just then entered the abbey, as the original of one of 
Scott's characters, and he again to his friend, Captain^ 
C , another original. With so many topics of in- 
terest, though near five o'clock, we could hardly break, 
away, but, though the dinner might wait our leisure,, 
we had thirty five miles to drive before we reached it, 
and these became very long as the night drew on, if 
this may be called night where there is no darkness. 
At half past ten we could still read large print by the 
twilight. We arrived about midnight at the metropo- 
lis of the north, and found our rooms at 19 Princess 

Street 

Saturday., July 17. — Up betimes and favored 
with a clear day, which is a rare thing with us. 
Walked to Dr. Chalmers', where we were kindly 
received by his wife, a very lovely and intelligent 
woman, three silent daughters, and the doctor, with 
characteristic frankness and simplicity. Some half 
dozen students or licentiates completed our breakfast 
circle. A chapter in the Bible and family prayers, 
all kneeling, was a preparation for breakfast which 
made us think of home. Three hours passed away 



150 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

quickly and pleasantly at and around the table, and 
by that time we were so much pleased with each 
other that instead of separating we went out together, 
and made a new engagement for Monday morning. 
Before parting Dr. Chalmers wrote me a bundle of 
notes addressed to professors and leading literary men, 
in order that I might extend my acquaintance at my 
leisure. 

At two o'clock Mr. Jeffrey called on us with an 
apology from his wife, who had been prevented from 
coming in town by the weather ; we had already re- 
ceived a note asking us to dine with them to-day. 
Soon after his visit we ordered the carriage and drove 
out, about six miles, to Milburn Tower, the very 
beautiful castellated mansion of Sir Robert Liston, 
taking it on our way to dinner at Craig Crook, Mr. 
Jeffrey's country-seat. The ladies remained in the 
carriage. I was ushered into a splendid Gothic draw- 
ing-room, panneled with cedar, and after a short time 
Sir Robert came in apologizing for the delay, as he 
was dressing to go out to dinner. At the age of 
eighty-six he is as hale and hearty as with us are 
most men at sixty. 

Just saved our distance for dinner at Craig Crook. 
We were received by Mrs. Jeffrey like old friends. 
She declared she would have known us both, and we 
certainly should her, by looks, probably, but, without 
question, by voice and laugh, which, in this land of 
Ossian, I may say, came o'er me like the days of very 
youth. Their mansion is a modernized chapelry of 
the palace of Holyrood, having the picturesqueness of 



EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 151 

the old and tlie luxury of modern days united, while 
the style of living is well calculated to set off both. 
Mr. Jeffrey's conversational powers seem to me per- 
fectly unique. It is a singular compound of knowl- 
edge, talent, satire, and badinage, covering much 

natural kindness and jiood feeling 

At two p. M. walked through sunshine and rain with 
all its intermediate gradations, to hear Dr. Andrew 
Thompson, the most powerful reasoner and the most 
eloquent speaker I have yet heard. He is a little- 
big man, with broad shoulders, a coarse face, and an 
enormous head, fitted for a leader either in battle or 
argument. Mr. Jeffrey called him the sledge-ham- 
mer of divines. He put me in mind of Willie 
Garlas in Macniel : — 

" Hap what would Will stood a castle, 
Or for safety, or for war." 

His sermon was written and read, but then it was 
read as it was written, with freedom and earnestness. 
I have heard no extemporary preacher but Robert 
Hall ; Chalmers writes and commits to memory. Mr. 
Jeffrey, who speaks in the highest terms of his talent, 
mentioned some anecdotes showing how timid and 
distrustful he is of his extemporary powers. When 
engaged in preparatory labors, he cannot bear inter- 
ruption. After church, paid a queer visit to a queer 
man. Professor Wilson, and agreed to breakfast with 
him to-morrow, when, perhaps, I may think better 
of my wild brother. 

Monday Night., July Vdth. — Though quite unwell 
to-day I have done and seen much that is interesting. 



152 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

At nine went to breakfast with Professor Wilson, 
the successor of Brown and Stewart. We were alone 
and had much talk. He is a strong minded, unpol- 
ished man, but not of the kind one expects to see in 
the chair of morals. He came in as professor under 
the influence of Scott and Lockhart, with much 
opposition from Jeffrey. Disputes as to government 
in the university arise here as elsewhere, and a royal 
commission is now sitting in order to determine the 
relative powers of professors, patrons, visitors, etc. 
In fact, as it now is, each professor governs his own 
class, and the body of professors the whole college 
according to usage or opinion, with little interference 
from higher powers. The whole number of matric- 
ulated students this year is about twenty-five hun- 
dred. The largest class is that of chemistry about 
five hundred, — that of moral philosophy about one 
hundred and fifty. For each course <£4 10s. is paid 
to the professor by each student, which, with a small 
salary from the city funds,* makes their situation 
pecuniarily rather better than ours, and, with a vaca- 
tion of seven months, quite another thing. The 
majoi'ity of the students have other occupations dur- 
ing vacation. They are teachers, tutors, writers, 
etc. Professor Wilson reads his lectures and has no 
examination of his students. He receives, however, 
from his class voluntary themes, and aids them by 
advice in their studies. 

.... Returning home, found Mrs. Jeffrey with 
the ladies, and was soon joined by Dr. Chalmers and 
Sir Robert Liston. Going out with Dr. Chalmers, 



EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 153 

we dii-ected our course to the house of Mr. Thomas 
Erskine, once a hterary, now a religious leader in 
Scotland. He is the great upholder of the miraculous 
effusion of the spirit in the cases at Greenock, a 
mania which is working up the minds of many here 
into enthusiasm, and, I fear, into insanity. Leaving 
Dr. Chalmers to conduct the ladies to the Botanic 
Garden, Mr. Erskine accompanied me to the new 
Academy, an institution which has been raised within 
a few years as a rival, though not so acknowledged, to 
the High School. It is distinguished from the latter 
by being more aristocratic and more upon the Eng- 
lish system. I had a letter to Dr. Williams, the 
rector, an Oxford man of Baliol, whom I found intel- 
ligent, learned, and full of candor. The curriculum 
in this school is seven years. Of their thoroughness 
in Latin I had fair proof. For my satisfaction Dr. 
Williams called out a student, a lad of fifteen, and 
in order to show his general knowledge of the Ian- 
guage requested me to give him a passage in Livy, 
an author he had never read. The result astonished 
me. His examination, after an attentive perusal of 
the passage, was that of one familiar, not only with 
the language but with the author ; others followed 
him with the same general result ; I have been 
delighted. From this I proceeded with Mr. Erskine 
to the splendid Botanic Garden, where we lounged 
till near five o'clock, delighted with all its arrange- 
ments and still more delighted, or to speak with more 
exactness, interested by my companion ; a noble, 
pure, talented, and pious mind, but too likely, I fear, 



154 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

to become a wreck through religious enthusiasm. 
His conversation saddened while it charmed me, and 
left an impression I shall not soon lose 

The history of Sir Robert Liston, with whom we 
breakfasted this morning, is that of a self-made man, 
and his success the result of honorable conduct. His 
mother was the farmeress, as it is termed here, of 
the place he has now adorned with a splendid Gothic 
residence, and the cottage she occupied he piously 
preserves alongside of his castellated mansion. At 
the age of fifteen he still held the plough. An in- 
cidental but warm attachment on the part of the son 
of Sir G. Eliot, a neighboring youth of his own age, 
made him travelling companion, first to his friend 
and then to Lord Bute, who afterwards sent him 
abroad attached to a foreign emjfissy. Here he rose 
regularly. A long and romantifj^^attachment, delayed 
but not lessened by mutual pOg^erty, was at length 
rewarded. His long residenvjj at Constantinople 
made him wealthy, though, coje^rary to custom, he 
refused all presents. He then > married, being about 
fifty, and for thirty-six years lived with his wife more 
like a lover than a husband. He lost her eighteen 
months ago, and such and so long had been his devo- 
tion to her that his friends thought that he could not 
long survive it; but in active, useful exertion he finds 
a resource, and he is now zealously engaged in all 
such labor, and especially in restoring a decayed vil- 
lage on his property, which is a very extensive one. 

Speaking of Mrs. Grant of Laggan, the author- 
ess, he said he had a message for me from her, 



EDINBURGH SOCIETY, 155 

namely, that I was her cousin, her maiden name 
being Mc Vicar, and that she desired much to see 
me. After breakfast Mr. Fletcher, a young artist 
who was one of the guests, offered to ride before us 
and inform her of our coming, so we agreed to call. 
Mrs. Grant we found living in a large house, in very 
comfortable style, in the outskirts of Edinburgh. 
We were ushered into an empty but not unfurnished, 
literary-looking drawing-room. She came in sup- 
ported by crutches, and aided by a servant, looking 
old and broken by years, but still with much dignity. 
The moment she sat down, however, she was full of 
life and interest. The history of the family name, 
the crest, the motto, she entered upon with all her 
Scottish feeling. Her first question was as to the 
coat of arms I bore, then proceeded to tell of the 
former wide possessions of the clan, and how the 
Campbells derived all their property and power from 
them by an intermarriage with the heiress of the 
Mc Vicar's. The Earl of Glasgow, she said, was the 
present head of our clan, and that I must go and see 
him, as she often discussed these matters with his 
lordship. So full, indeed, was she of these thoughts 

that she wrote in A 's album the following lines, 

evidently impromptu, expressive of what sh& deemed 
our feelings : — 

" Who the kindly heart would blame. 
That glows at a congenial name "? 
These kindred names, well known and dear, 
Are music to a Highland ear, 
Oft waking in a Highland eye 
The sacred fount of sympathy. 



156 LIFE OF JOHN jI^^VICKAR. 

These home-bred feelings to resn-ain, 
The wide Atlantic rolls in rain. 
Where lovely maids and gallant men 
Dwell sheltered in their shady glen, 
With Pilgiim steps their exiled race 
Shall fondly come to view the place, 
And tho' assigned a happier lot, 
Shall bless the old ancestral spot. 

" AxNE Grant — bom McVicae." 

Wednesday, July 21sf. — Dined and spent yester- 
day night at Craig Crook. The company at dinner 
consisted of Mr. ^lurray. one of the leading advo- 
cates of Edinburgh, Mr. Morehead, Dean of St. 
Andrew's, and several others. The conversation was 
literaiy and interesting. Of Sir James Mackintosh, 
Mr. Jefirey spoke, as the ablest man of his time, a 
man brimful of learning without being oppressed by 
it, and gifted with the most prodigious and retentive 
memoiy, of which he gave some wonderful instances. 
He spoke of Professor Wilson as a talented and 
strong-minded man. Professor AVilson, himself, told 
me of his own manner of work, that when he did 
study or write it was generally for fifteen hours at a 
time, fi'om 6 a. m. to 9 p. m., without moving or eat- 
incr, which fits of intellectual labor were succeeded 
by equally immovable fits of indolence 



CHAPTER XII. 

SIR W.1LTER SCOTT — RETURX TO LONDON : 1S30. 

T^EAR Aunt, I now resume my pen here at 
•^-^ Rushby Ford, Durham, wliich at Abbotsford I 
did not touch, for it seemed a kind of treachery to 
our kind and nobie host. But you must not lose my 
recollections. At half past nine, Saturday morning, 
we bade a final fai*ewell to Edinburgh, and to the 
many kind friends our short stay had given us. Went 
six miles out of our way to visit Roslyn, with its ro- 
mantic castle and splendid abbey. This delayed us 
so long that it was near half past five when we ar- 
rived at Melrose, where a note was handed me be- 
fore we alighted, from Mr. Lockhart, to whom I had 
written, as I promised, begguig us to meet Sir Wal- 
ter at dinner that evening. Great was the huny 
with bacp and bacrgacre, and dresses to get readv, and 
with such success that by sLs we reached their beau- 
tiful cottage. 

As we approached we had a glimpse of Sir Walter 
at the door, but when we drove up he had retired, 
and Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart alone remained to wel- 
come us. On entering the di-awing-room, he was 
standing with his daughter, Miss Scott, leaning some- 
what, as I found was his wont, upon his cane. His 



158 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

appearance — ■ but 1 will not speak of that, for I had 
no time to scan it. All that I saw was the face of the 
" Great Unknown ; " all that I felt was the pressure of 
that hand which penned " The Antiquary" and " The 
Lady of the Lake ; " all that I heard were the mellow 
accents of that Northern tongue, which now with 
courtesy and kindness, welcomed me to Scotland. 
The company was not large, but sufl&ciently so to 
afford a plea for laying the table on the green, an 
arrangement which, however agreeable it may have 
been in Arcadia, is but a perilous experiment in the 
latitude of Scotland ; besides, the outer air is no 
place for quiet talk — it is fitted for merriment, but 
not for intellectual conversation — so that a lowering 
sky became by common consent an apology for an 
early return to the drawing-room, where music and 
the song awaited us. 

Sir Walter's great delight is in his daughter's harp, 
and the ballads of the olden time, which she sings 
with a most winning grace. Thus passed our even- 
ing 5 and on parting for the night, we received and 
accepted an invitation to Abbotsford ; so that, as you 
may suppose, with gay hearts, we returned to our 
inn. Now, if you ask me the impression of this 
day, I must confess, in regard to Sir Walter, it par- 
took somewhat of disappointment. He was kind 
and courteous, but did not say much ; and when he 
did speak, I missed somewhat of that precision of ■ 
thought and power of language, which had so re- 
cently charmed me in Southey and Sir James Mack- 
intosh. But further acquaintance has enabled me to 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 159 

see that I was then in the heresy of ignorance. I 
was bringing to the measurement an inapplicable 
standard. It was like measuring iveight by length — 
it was requiring in a boundless scene of natural 
beauty the polish and proportions of a Grecian tem- 
ple. The next day being Sunday, we attended ser- 
vice at the kirk, occupying Sir Walter Scott's pew, 
which was very near the pulpit. " How did you like 
the preacher ? " said Sir Walter, when I again met 
him. " I confess," I replied, " I did not hear a sin- 
gle sentence. " You must not complain," said he ; 
" you have heard as much as any of his hearers for 
ten years past." This voiceless preacher, as I after- 
wards found, was the father of the original Dominie 
Sampson. Had delicacy permitted it, the father 
would himself have made no bad " study." 

On approaching Abbotsford a second time, we 
paused not, as before, at the gate ; but driving down 
through the rich young woods that embower it, and, 
passing through an arched and turreted gateway, 
found ourselves in a noble court or quadrangle. On 
our left rose the mansion in its rich and irregular 
architecture, bearing in some parts the choice re- 
mains of an earlier chisel, which Sir Walter has 
rescued from the contiguous ruins, but generally the 
result of native genius, working under his own eye, 
and passing rapidly, as he told me, " from the models 
of art to those of nature." In front a rich and lofty 
Gothic screen separated the court from the gardens, 
— happily attaining what Sir Walter said he had al- 
most despaired of doing, — " distancing without hiding 



160 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

them ; " while on the right runs an arcade or clois- 
ter, embanking the rising ground behind it, and form- 
ing a sheltered walk nearly around two sides of the 
court. On this occasion Sir Walter met us at the 
door, again welcomed us to Scotland and Abbotsford, 

and, taking E by the hand, led the way to the 

library. But of that way, I must give a little descrip- 
tion. 

The entrance is through an octagonal turret, raised 
but a step from the ground, into a hall occupying 
the central front of the building : such a hall as 
transports you at once into the regions of romance, 
and the days of baronial chivalry. Its walls and 
ceiling are of dark oak wainscoting. At either end, 
on a raised pedestal, stands forth a mailed knight, 
with visor down and spear in rest, like sentinels to 
challenge all who enter — these are formed of com- 
plete suits of ancient armor ; one of steel, inlaid 
with gold, the same which was borrowed by the 
champion of England at the coronation of George 
ly. ; it cost Sir Walter one thousand guineas. Along 
the walls hang " shield and spear and partisan," in- 
termixed with horns of the bison and the elk, and 
the skins of beasts of prey, as if to mark its lord 
equally ready for the foray or the chase. The win- 
dows, too, throw " a rich and storied light," being of 
stained glass, bearing the armorial escutcheons of the 
whole clan of Scots, the Laird of Buccleuch, as I 
think, standing at their head. Around the circuit of 
the walls, near to the ceiling, run those again of the 
Border families, richly carved in oak, and underneath 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 161 

them the following legend, in the old Gothic letter : 
" These be the armour coats of thae who, in times of 
auld, stood up for the Marches of Scotland : thae 
were men of might and fought stoutly, and God did 
defend them." From this hall, you have access tO' 
the other parts of the house, and pass en suite through 
the following rooms : Miss Scott's boudoir ; the 
breakfast and dining-room ; the armory ; the with- 
drawing room ; the library, and lastly Sir Walter 
Scott's study ; which brings you again to the front 
of the house and end of the buildino;. 

Of these rooms the most splendid is the library; 
the most interesting, I need not add, is the study, into 
which last we entered not, but under its master's 
guidance. The library, with its noble dimensions 
and costly furniture ; its book-cases and cabinets of 
odorous cedar ; its ceiling of the same, paneled 
and carved after the model of Melrose ; its wellr 
filled shelves ; its beautiful oriel window projecting 
and spreading out over the Tweed; its curtains of 
crimson damask with heavy gold fringe ; its varied' 
articles of use, curiosity, and luxury ; all combine 
to make it a most splendid room. Of these articles^ 
many are presents. Here, for instance, stands a mas- 
sive chair, once a cardinal's, the carving of which 
ranks it among the productions of genius : this is 
from Rome. There hangs an antique lamp, a relic 
of the majesty of Venice. Here, in a corner, stands 
Dean Swift's walking cane ; and that splendid silver 
sarcophagus, on its low pedestal, is the gift of the 
unfortunate Byron. How many associations does 
11 



162 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

even that one awaken ? Within it are the bones of 
ancient heroes — for over their tombs were built the 
old walls of the Pireeus — yet who can name them ? 
The lines inscribed " Expende Hannibalem," etc., 
feelingly convey this lesson, — while the name of 
Byron, which the donor would not put, but which 
Scott has added, brings touchingly to mind the dan- 
ger and the misery of earthly genius unsanctified by 
religion. The letter accompanying this gift has been 
purloined from its sacred resting-place. When shall 
such a theft dare to be shown ? Sir Walter deeply 
regrets its loss, for of Byron he often speaks — some- 
times with high admiration — always with tender 
feelings. " Poor Byron," is his familiar appellation, 
which words, uttered in his deep tones, go to the very 
heart. 

But with all its splendor, the library yields in in- 
terest to the room beyond — his private study : for 
there stand his table and his chair, calling up the 
visions of his past labors ; and there lie his pen and 
papers, the evidence of his present ones ; and there, 
too, his uncorrected yet hasty manuscripts, which 
show from what a rapid fountain his thoughts must 
have poured forth. That which lies upon the table 
I dare not read ; but from what he says, conclude it 
is upon the superstitions of the Highlands. Around 
this room, at the height of about ten feet — for the 
ceiling is a high one — runs a light gallery, which 
gives access by a private door to his bed-room, so 
that he can at all times command privacy. In ad- 
dition to cases made from wood that once formed the 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 163 

*' Heart of Mid-Lothian," filled with books of more 
frequent reference, the walls of his study are covered 
with portraits and scenes of Scottish and Border 
story. Among them, those of Claverhouse and the 
unfortunate Mary seem his especial favorites. This 
first day we had company at dinner and until near 
bed-time. His style of living is with considerable 
state. The buildings are very extensive, and lighted 
throughout by gas, prepared in one of the remotest 
parts. Two servants in livery, and his own gentle- 
man in black, are in regular attendance. Of the 
embarrassments arising from the failure of his pub- 
lishers, with whom the law adjudged him to be a 
partner, I have learned but little. The impression 
given me by Mr. Jeffrey and others in Edinburgh, 
was that these engagements, amounting originally to 
near X 100,000, were in a great measure liquidated: 
partly by a heavy policy on his own hfe of (I under- 
stood) .£40,000, and partly by the sale of his subse- 
quent works. But to proceed with my story. Mon- 
day, 26th July, shall be marked by us henceforth 
with a " white stone,"' as having been spent with Sir 
Walter Scott alone. Then, indeed, for the first time 
was I made fully aware of being in the presence of 
" the mighty master ; " for, as with other magicians, 
the spell increased as the circle narrowed. The truth 
is, Su\ Walter Scott is not to be judged of in general 
society : he never argues, never dogmatizes and never 
talks learnedly ; his head and heart seemed filled 
with better thoughts and things ; an overflowing 
benevolence ; sympathy for all breathing things ; an 



164 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

imagination that teems with all images of natural 
loveliness ; feelings that tremble with every touch of 
natural affection ; a memory that so lives in the 
records of the romantic past, that a metaphysician 
might well doubt to which century its possessor in 
truth belonged ; and a sweet simplicity and unas- 
sumingness of manner that adds the attractiveness 
of childhood to the words and thoughts of genius, — 
these are the elements of his strength, and when seen 
in private they are overpowering in their influence. 
Then a book, a portrait, or a chance word, unlocks, 
as it were, by magic, some hidden fountain ; then 
comes forth at once the splendid train of thought and 
feeling and imagery, the Border stoiy, the touching 
ballad, and the heart-rending incident ; in the 
mean while his eye lightens up, often suffused with 
tears, and his voice deepens to a tone that thrills 
through the nerves like the deep notes of the organ. 
In this I can liken him to nothing but his own pic- 
ture of the awakened minstrel — when — 

" The present scene, his future lot, 
His toils, his wants, were all forgot." 

But in all this, his true-hearted modesty never for- 
sakes him. In all his poetic recollections, which, 
on such occasions, came swelling like a tide into his 
mind, I never once heard him repeat a line of his 
own ; and whenever the subject of his poems was 
alluded to, he avoided it with a simplicity which al- 
ways left me in doubt whether he understood the 
allusion. The old adage of " genus irritabile " ap- 
plies not to him : a sneer is as foreign to his nature 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 106 

as it is to the expression of his countenance ; and, as 
far as words and manners go, he certainly knows not 
what envy is. Of the race of his contemporaries, 
there is scarce one of whom we did not speak ; and 
not one of whom he spoke otherwise than with re- 
spect and kindness ; and wliat at any time was want- 
ing in praise, was sure to be made up in kindness of 
manner. On his repeating one evening a sea-song 
of Allan Cunningham's, beginning, " A wet sheet 
and a flowing sea," etc., which he did with great 
power, I expressed my surprise at its beauty, and 
said, "Does Cunningham often write such?" He 
replied, " My friend Allan is like a boy that shoots 
many arrows at a mark — some of them must hit." 
Of Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Southey he spoke 
often ; and his all powerful memory was ever prompt 
to bring forth their choicest passages. On mention- 
ing to him Southey's desponding views of political 
affairs, " Ah ! " said he, little aware how much the 
past had blinded his own eyes, " Southey is a retired 
and bookish man." On expressing my agreeable 
disappointment in Jeffrey's character, whom before 
personal acquaintance I had regarded as a cold and 
cynical critic, he replied with warmth, " You never 
did man more injustice ; his heart is all tenderness ; " 
and of his own family affections you may judge by 
his warm exclamation when the conversation turned 
to such themes, " I bless God " said he, " that He 
has given me good affectionate children." I may 
here mention that these are four in number : Walter, 
in the army ; Charles, in the foreign department ; Mrs. 



166 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAB. 

Lockhart, and Miss Scott. As we sat alone after 
dinner, I ventured to introduce the subject of his 
long " Incognito." He entered into it kindly if not 
freely. His near friends, he said, always knew it, 
though not by acknowledgment, while to the direct 
inquiry of others he felt himself under no obligation 
to give an answer. " It was not a crime," said he, 
" of which I was accused, and therefore I was not 
bound to answer ; the secret began in caprice, and 
was continued perhaps from other motives." Upon 
my mentioning the name of his brother in Canada as 
one to whom in America they had often been attrib- 
uted, he replied with so much feeling that I feared 
again to mention the name, " Ah ! poor Tom " (I 
think he called him) ; " he could have written them^ 
and better ; he had great powers, and I often urged 
him, but in vain : he never wrote me a line." On 
asking him here the metaphysical question, whether 
imagination had ever furnished him with materials 
not traceable to experience, he replied, after a mo- 
ment's pause, that his characters were always drawn 
from nature, and many of them individual pictures 
but slightly altered. " This likeness on one occa- 
sion," said he, " betrayed my secret ; the original of 
' Oldbuck ' was an old friend of my father's, whom I 
well remembered as a boy. It was too faithful a 

copy not to be known. Mr. , on its publication, 

meeting me, said, as he clapped me on the shoulder, 
' Ah, Scott, you wrote that ; no one could paint our 
old friend to the life but you or I.' " Upon my men- 
tioning some other wild surmises as to their author- 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 167 

ship, after answering them, he concluded with a 
smile, as if in reference to my pertinacity, " In 
truth, I find that I have kept the secret so long and 
so well as now to find some difficulty in proving my 
own." 

On Monday morning. Sir Walter I'ose as usual 
about six o'clock, wakened, as he regularly is, by his 
favorite dog, a large staghound of the ancient breed, 
given him, as he tells me, by Dandie Dinmont him- 
self. This dog, by the by, is his constant compan- 
ion. At meals, he waits behind his master's chair, 
and not unfrequently puts his paw upon his shoulder 
to remind him of his presence ; follows him through 
the day in his drives and walks ; dozes at his side 
while he writes ; and completes his tour of duty by 
guarding him while he sleeps, — his bed being a bear- 
skin couch. At break of day, he again arouses his 
master Avith a gentle paw, knowing well that he has 
work to do in which the whole world is interested, 
and not the least the canine race, of whose virtues 
he himself has so often sat as the model. In truth, I 
look upon this dog with equal respect and kindness, 
as " part and parcel " of the novelist himself. Until 
breakfast time, that is, for about two hours, Sir Walter 
writes, and about an equal time after it, which brings 
him to eleven o'clock ; after which he calls himself 
a free man, writing no more that day, unless per- 
chance in the long evenings of winter. On leaving 

his study this day, he immediately proposed to A 

and M a drive through his plantations, of which 

he is justly proud, and as far as Melrose ; to which 



iG8 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

they, as you may suppose, well pleased, acceded. His 
morning's dress accords -with his simple rural habits ; 
a well-worn, green hunting-coat, with ample flaps and 
pockets, a flat cloth cap, and an oft-used whistle 
pendant from his hutton-hole, agree well with the 
large frame and manly figure, though slight stoop, of 
one whom you might take to be a Scottish laird of 
high degree and simple tastes, — of one who was be- 
ginning to feel the weight of years, without having 
lost the taste or enjoyment of the more active sports 
of youth. In this guise I see him now setting forth 
in his low-wheeled, open barouche, accompanied by 
our two girls and followed by his deep-mouthed favor- 
ite and two others of minor breed. On visiting the 
scarcely perceptible ruins of the early Melrose on the 
heights, he expatiated, they tell me, good humoredly 
on the taste of the lazy monks, who could prefer the 
fat lands of the valley to such heart-stirring scenes ; 
and on passing at a little distance a Scotch lassie, 
knee-deep in the river, fishing, he said (whether in 
joke or earnest), " There stands my Die Vernon." 
But I must not defraud them of the pleasure of tell- 
ing of their drive, which they describe as all delight- 
ful from his attentive kindness and his unceasing flow 
of anecdote and ballad, in reference to every spot they 
visited, or individual of note of whom they chanced 
to speak. 

On his return I met him in the library ; as he ap- 
proached he handed me from a packet of letters just 
received, a small, hard roll of parchment, tied with 
cord, and secured by a lump of raw wax. " Open 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 169 

it," said he ; ■" it will be something to tell, that a Re- 
publican dared to break the seal of a writ of the 
king ; " " At the orders," I would have added, " of 
one whom kings delighted to honor," bvat his modesty 
awed me, and I dared not. It was a writ for the 
general election. Parliament being dissolved by the 
king's death, and was addressed to him as high sheriff 
of Selkirkshire, — the style and form of it have con- 
tinued unchanged, he tells me, from the time of the , 
earliest Edward ; and hence its rude accompani- 
ments, A reformed Parliament, however, will no 
doubt order all that much better. 

Remembering the dash of superstition which he 
invariably gives to his fictions, and which always 
seemed to me to be ex anhno, I took occasion to 
ask, after several surprising narratives given by him 
of individuals possessing the power of second sight, 
whether he had, in the course of his life, met with 
any such which could not be rationally explained? 
He paused some moments before he answered, " I 
cannot say that I have." Still, however, whether by 
natural or early association, a lingering respect for 
such fears, not to say belief in them, often appears in 
him. And how, indeed, could it be otherwise, with 
with a mind of such preponderating imagination, of 
which credulity (I mean it in a poetic sense) must 
be one of its highest elements. That mind must be- 
lieve in the reality of its own creations, or it could 
not give them life, and cannot therefore judge harshly 
the illusions of other men. Of Coleridge, he quoted 
with applause the answer, " That he had seen too 



170 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

many ghosts to believe in them ; " and then in refer- 
ence to that wayward writer, said, " He is never 
ending, still beginning ; could he be tied to his chair 
and to a water diet, he would be the greatest genius 
living." 

One evening as we sat in the library alone, on 
some mention of a present he had received, he opened 
a cabinet and brought out a store of them, — rings, 
seals, snuff-boxes, miniatures, etc., without number: 
each had its own little story. On showing us a 
splendid gold snuff-box presented to him by the king, 
George IV., with his likeness on the lid, he said, " A 
princely return for a little book which the king had 
requested of him." But on one trifle he seemed to 
set a peculiar value : it was an antique stone ring, 
found in the Highlands of Scotland, believed to be of 
Carthaginian origin, and commonly called the Adder's 
Stone, of which he said there were but three known, 
whose owners he then enumerated, to each of which, 
by popular superstition, rare virtues were attributed, 
and, more especially, to drop one from the hand por- 
tended some great misfortune to its owner. To guard 
against such an event, to this one was attached a small 
silver chain, which was to be slipped over the fingers 
as a security. He took the precaution, I observed, 

in his own case, and as A received it from him, 

he said in an apologetic way, as he put the chain on 
her fingers, "Permit me," before untwisting it from 
his own hand. 

Upon my introducing the subject of the printed 
editions of his works in America, he spoke of literary 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 171 

property as a literary man cannot but speak, namely, 
as one of its most sacred forms ; and I in turn spoke, 
I was sure, the feelings of my countrymen, in saying, 
that in proportion to our admiration of his works was 
our regret at the inadequacy of our laws to secure 
to him his rightful returns. " On one occasion," 
said he, " after trying in vain to prevent their 
bribery of some one having access to the press, in 
order to remind the publishers in your country that 
they were trespassing on others' property, I sent to 
my printer a sheet utterly unsuitable, as the conclu- 
sion to one of my novels just publishing — which 
sheet was immediately canceled as soon as I had 
reason to believe the surreptitious copy was sent off." 
" Now this," said he, " I call a fair trick. But seri- 
ously," he continued, " I think it is but just and be- 
coming; that a common language should make com- 
mon copyright, as is now the case by treaty between 
the Prussian and Austrian dominions." 

As we had just returned from a tour to Loch Ka- 
trine, and the abode of the McGregors, with " Rob 
Roy " and " The Lady of the Lake in our hands, " 
as our most faithful guide-books, this was an obvious 
theme ; he entered upon it freely ; and when his heart 
was warmed, it only wanted that I should have had 
(as Boswell says), " a short hand or a long head," to 
have added another tale to those of " Old Mortality," 
or with but slight addition of melody, another canto 
to " The Lady of the Lake." " Rob Roy," is, after all, 
one of Sir Walter's choicest heroes ; he prides himself 
in showing in his armory the light, short gun of the 



172 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

far-famed freebooter. On our mentioning the inn at 
the Trosacks : " Then," said he, " you saw my friend 
Stewart (the host), the grandson of that ' Ewan of 
Briglands,' who paid with his Kfe for his tender heart 
towards poor Rob Roy ; he cut the belt and let him 
slip ; he was my authority for that fact." But details 
I must reserve for our long winter evenings, if Heav- 
en is pleased to bring us together again ; in the mean 
time, I close my long narrative. On the second day 
I sent for post-horses, fearing to trespass by a longer 
stay, but Sir Walter countermanded them, saying in 
his own kind manner, " You are not quite well, and 
I cannot part with you ; besides I owe it, for it was 
all Lockhart's doing with his 'fete champetre.' " 
Though the indisposition was but trifling, the kind- 
ness was great, and the remembrance of it will be 
enduring ; it has added love to veneration, so that in 
my future recollections of Sir Walter Scott, the vir- 
tues of the man will come to my heart, before his 
merits as an author. On the third day of our stay at 
Abbotsford we took leave. Sir Walter returning to 

A , as he parted from her, a little book, in which, 

on a blank leaf, he had written these words : — 

"To meet and part is mortals' lot, 
You've seen us — pray — forget us not; 
Such the farewell of Walter Scott." 

London, August 3. — Our Paris news darkens the 
future. " To go or stay, that is the question," and a 
very doubtful one. To quit England, with all its high 
interests so close to our own, and so many kind friends 



LONDON. 173 

making it homelike, for a land of strangers, a foreign 
tongue, and unkindred people — I sometimes feel like 
one about to leap a gulf which he will afterwards 
regret. I shall pause a while for guidance. So having 
closed that question for a few clays at least, I took a 
cab for city bvisiness, and to renew the broken links 
of our London acquaintance. But here again I find 
the city a different place in August from what it was 
in June. Sir Thomas Acland, at his seat in Devon- 
shire, but from him a kind letter of invitation ; Mrs. 
Bates on the wing, but promising to meet us on the 
Continent ; Mrs. Heber, already gone, accompanied, 
I was sorry to learn, by Count Valimachi, the Greek 
noble, to whom she had introduced me at her own 
house. This was all I then heard ; but my next visit 
to Lady Morton cleared up the mystery by the infor- 
mation of a secret marriage, communicated only the 
morning of her departure to her old and best friend, 
Sir Robert Harry Liglis, by a hasty note, saying, 
" That knowing his sentiments it had not been com- 
municated to him before ; " and in short, that her 
friends must make the best of it. 

Among the few acquaintances I found in town, was 
the Hon. Joseph Hume, M. P., preparing for his 
Middlesex election to-morrow, to which he has en- 
gaged me to accompany him. 

.... At eight, A. M., Thursday, a long and 
splendid procession of private coaches appeared in 
Regent Street decorated with blue ribbons and oak 
favors. Among them I recognized Mr. Hume's char- 
iot, which, drawing up for me, I entered, joining two 



174 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

gentlemen, strangers, who informed me that Mr, 
Hume was before us with his committee, which 
cavalcade we joined at the committee-room in Pall 
Mall, thence proceeding on our splendid, but tedious 
journey of eight miles to the hustings at Old Brent- 
ford. On entering Mr. Hume's carriage I had ob- 
served that the gentlemen in it, as well as all others, 
wore in their button-holes, and also attached to their 
hats, a sprig of oak, the badge of their party, but 
never thought myself interested till one of the gen- 
tlemen, as I afterwards learned, a nephew of the 
new member, seeing me without any, very courte- 
ously divided his, and handing it to me requested 
me to wear it. It was an awkward moment, but 
feeling it inconsistent with my position as an Ameri- 
can who had come to see rather than to approve, I 
declined, good humoredly, on the ground that as an 
American citizen I was precluded from accepting all 
title or insignia of honor in a foreign land. At the 
committee-room my companions were changed, but 
not for the better, the new-comers insisting that 
without a badge I would not be safe in an excited 
crowd, and still more that I could not be received on 
the hustings among the special friends of the new 
member. I simply replied that all that was a matter 
of indifference to me, and concerned only Mr. Hume, 
upon whose invitation I had come. The result jus- 
tified my confidence. ' Through excited crowds we 
passed for miles with much applause, some abuse, 
but no disorder ; and at the hustings Mr. Hume took 
me forward within the privileged rail, introducing me 



LONDON. 175 

to Sir John Cam Hobhoiise, and the other members 
of his committee. On the Hon. Mr. Byng's arrival, 
the other radical candidate, amid much cheering, his 
horses were taken from the carriage, the mob taking 
their place, an honor which Mr. Hume had declined. 
But the election was still delayed for hours, waiting 
the ai'rival of the high sheriff, Sir James Richardson, 
who had gone down with the kino; in his first visit to 
the " Tower." On his arrival, the usual acts ao-ainst 
bribery, etc., were read, proclamation made, the elec- 
tors addressed by the candidates, Mr. Hume and Mr. 
Byng being the only names proposed ; and, in fine, no 
opposition appearing, and no show of hands called for, 
they were declared by the sheriff the elected members 
for Middlesex. On leaving the stand Mr. Hume was 
"chaired " by his followers, borne aloft on their shoul- 
ders through the excited multitude. But I paid dear 
for my curiosity, for as I gazed upon the scene with 
something of a Republican's contempt, my pockets 
were skillfully turned inside out, my purse gone, every- 
thing except my watch. Remembering at the moment 
my dinner engagement with Sir Robert Inglis, and 
time pressing, I was forced at once to exchange my 
slow chariot for a swift coach, and, by means of a lit- 
tle stray silver that had escaped, to find my way back 
to London and Regent Street. Happily I there met 
my own carriage with wife and daughters ; they, tired 
of waiting, had just set off, intending to make an 
apology for my absence. 

It was a fortunate meeting, for I should otherwise 
have lost one of the most delicrhtfxil remembrances 



176 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

of English society. A few choice friends, added to 
a large family circle, Sir Robert and Lady Inglis, 
with their young wards, the orphan daughters of 
Thornton, the eminent banker, philanthropist, and 
Christian, formed a doubly attractive picture to 
Americans who had been inclined to associate rank 
and wealth and social position, with fashion and 
worldly display. We here saw the reverse — genuine 
simplicity of heart, manners, and character, adorned 
by high accomplishments, with a tone of deep Chris- 
tian sentiment, pervading and dignifying all. With 
little taste for music myself, I was still never weary 
listening to the grand cathedral anthems played and 
sung by the Misses Thornton ; so sweet and soothing, 
it gave me new ideas as to the melody of sweet 
sounds. From this high enjoyment we returned at 
a late hour to our lodgings. * 

Friday, August 6. — At half past six drove to 
Mr. Hume's. A splendid dinner, though small, of 
about fifteen covers, to the leaders of his party. Sir 
Francis Burdett, Sir John Ellis, Sir John Cam Hob- 
house, Sir J. Williamson, high sheriff, etc., etc. I 
sat between Mr. Byng — the other elected or rather 
reelected member, Mr. Byng having represented 
Middlesex for forty years — and Colonel Jones, natu- 
ral son of the late Lord Landsdown, and had a most 
agreeable and spirited talk generallj'. Sir Francis Bur- 
dett, as the popular leader, was first in importance, 
though not in conversational powers. Li person, he is 
tall and thin, with feeble features, a high, narrow, bulg- 
ing forehead, and small, gray, twinkling eyes. You 



LONDON. 177 

may judge of the expense of contested elections from 
his telling me that his three Middlesex elections and 
two consequent examinations had cost him near 
£100,000, or half a million of dollars ; hence in hard 
times, he added, contested elections were rare. The 
expenses of yesterday, uncontested, were about 
.£15,000, though upon Mr. Hume asserting that it 
had cost nothing to any one, I ventured to assert the 
reverse, on the score of my emptied pockets. 

Saturday, August 7. — Mr. Southey having given 
me a letter to a Mr. Morrison of London, as one 
who had revolutionized the retail business, and made 
an immense fortune by it, I determined to seek him 
out. Having nothing special before me, I this morn- 
ing set forth. But London does not admit of having 
but one point of interest. On my way, passing near 
the Royal Palace I remembered my promise of call- 
ing on the king's son, Colonel Fitz-Clarence, residing 
with his father, as he, more affectionately than rev- 
erentially had expressed it, " to take care of him." 
I left my card, not finding him in, and thence, pass- 
ing eastward to the city, paid a similar fruitless visit 
to Bishop Copleston at his London residence. At 
length I reached Mr. Morrison's actual scene of busi- 
ness, the source of his wealth, the greatest retail 
store in the world, where the shop had grown up into 
an establishment, covering a whole square, — with 
its independent departments, respective heads respon- 
sible, each with its array of clerks, and cash sales to 
the amount of many millions. So much for the 
petty shop, while the petty shop-keeper himself has 

12 



178 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

grown into one of the grandees of tlie land for wealth, 
and is now recently incorporated among its legisla- 
tors, being just elected Member of Parliament for 
the Borough of St. Ives, Devonshire. Mr. Morrison 
being now among his constituents, his partner became 
my guide through the establishment, and enlightened 
me as to the secret of his success. But I will not 
weary you wdth the details. The principles are self- 
evident, requiring only the administrative talent. 
No credit, cash sales, rapid conversion of capital, 
minute subdivision of labor, above all, the credit of 
perfect fidelity in prices and quality of goods, with 
small profits, and nightly closing of every account. 
These rules, faithfully observed, have, within a few 
years, wrought the above miracles and brought the 
shop-keeper to sit with princes. 

In the evening I walked to Mr. Bates'. Found 
him much changed in views after reading my pam- 
phlet on " Reexchange " with New York ; he now 
favors it. On my praising the perfect silence that 
prevailed in his large counting-rooms, his answer was 
striking. " A single word would indicate that some 
clerk had neglected his duty." He then proceeded 
to unfold its beautifully quiet organization. On 
reaching the counting-house, at half-past nine, the 
letters of the day are laid before him, numbered from 
one, say, to fifty, and notes are made upon them for 
inspection, they thence pass into the hands of the 
corresponding clerks, of whom there are five in con- 
stant employ, — two English, one French, German, 
etc., each taking his own and noting in their own 



LONDON. 179 

memorandum book " when, how, etc.," to be an- 
swered. Thence they pass to the underwriting 
clerk, to the sale clerk, etc., each noting his own 
duty performed, all by writing and without speaking, 
eventually reaching again by three or four o'clock 
the hands of the principal, the work done. 

Monday, August 9. — Received at breakfast a 
note from the palace from Colonel Fitz-Clarence, 
favorite son of the king, saying that he would be 
happy to see me at his head-quarters. This was an 
honor not to be declined, so, notwithstanding the 
hurry of a last day in London, I determined to call, 
though it had to be dovetailed among many visits 
and much necessary business. Setting out, I first 
directed my course to the Dutch minister's to learn 
the actual state of Brussels, which the papers spoke 
of as in a great ferment from sympathy with Paris, 
and unsafe for travellers. He, on the contrary, 
laughed at my fears, and bade me go with confidence. 
Driving thence to Mr. Hume's, I found him on the 
wing for Scotland, to boast his new parliamentary 
honors as representing the metropolitan county, 
having heretofore represented an obscure Scotch 
borough. On reaching the Horse Guards, Colonel 
Fitz-Clarence's head-quarters, I left my card, finding 
him officially engaged. But calling again on my 
return, after some matter of business, his secretary 
stated that he had left orders for my reception. 
From a small reception-room I was at once ushered 
in, and in five minutes, to give you an idea of his 
cordial reception and open natural manners, I found 



180 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

myself engaged as with an old friend. One bond, 
at least, was clear, his feelings towards my home and 
country. "I would have been a rebel myself," said 
he, " for the cause of representation. Without it 
taxation is tyranny. My father thinks so, and so do 
I." Respect and kindness were in all that he said 
or repeated of his father, the king. " The sailor 
king," as he himself admitted, adding in a tone of 
familiar confidence, " I am very anxious to get him 
down into the country. London is not the place for 
him now among his old associates." After an hour's 
pleasant talk and giving me a letter of introduction 
to one of the Savans of Paris, and urging me to give 
freely to any friend of mine in America a letter to 
him, we parted. I secretly wished, for England's 
sake, that he, instead of his imbecile father, had 
been in the line of succession. 

My last visit was to bid farewell to Mr. Herries, 
my early acquaintance and recent friend, Chancellor 
of the Exchequer now ; at my former visit, as the son 
of a ruined merchant, struggling for support. One 
further visit both of duty and pleasure remained ; it 
was to our able and kind minister, Alexander McLane 
and family, including my old friend Washington 
Irving, Secretary of Legation. Talking of his diplo- 
matic intercourse with the government, Mr. McLane 
tells me that it has been specifically with Lord Aber- 
deen and Mr. Herries, with occasional reference to 
the Duke of Wellington on knotty points for a final 
settlement. Of Aberdeen he speaks as a highly 
honorable man, single-minded but slow. Of Herries, 



LONDON. 181 

as a perfect man of business and master of all ques- 
tions that come up, and the facts bearing upon them ; 
but still more highly of the great duke as the most 
candid, satisfactory diplomat he had ever met : patient 
in listening, courteous in manner, seeking informa- 
tion, and, when his judgment was settled, clear, liberal, 
and decided in stating it. " ' Now, Mr. McLane,' he 
would often say to me in such discussions, ' I do Jiot 
understand that matter. Explain it to me. Up to 
such a point we are agreed. There we begin to differ. 
You hold that course, I think this view best ; now 
then explain,' etc. So that," Mr. McLane added, " I 
never left him in any doubt as to his opinion on any 
controverted question, nor as to how far we agreed, 
and where and how we differed." 

Returning to a hasty dinner before embarking, the 
doubtful question arose as to how we were to travel 
on the Continent. This speculation soon received a 
solution in a very kind note from Sir Robert Inglis, 
urging or rather insisting on our use of his travelling 
barouche, to be found at Ostend, an order for it being 
inclosed, for oar summer tour on the Continent, and 
to be redeposited, on our return, at an hotel named, 
either at Calais or Paris. This liberal offer, twice 
repeated, was at length accepted with thanks, as giv- 
ing us more of comfort and freedom of movement 
in our journey than we could otherwise have com- 
manded. And so, good-night to England ! Hence- 
forth Germany, or France, or Switzerland is to be my 
theme, which, if you feel with me, will be a change 



182 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

for the worse. The ladies of our party are confident, 
and promise themselves great things ; but for my- 
self, I cling to England with filial affection doubly 
strengthened by our present visit. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE continent: 1830. 

1 WRITE from this old town of Ghent on the 
twelfth day of August. Our passage across the 
channel was stormy, but daylight soon brought us 
into smooth water and alongside the pier of Ostend, 
surrounded by strange faces and strange sounds. 
The morning opened dark but soon brightened. The 
custom-house, our dread, gave us no trouble. The 
revolution in Paris had converted all into Republi- 
cans, and the very name of " American " was sacred 
in their ears. " Je suis Am^ricain," was an " open 
sesame " for all that I wanted to see, know, or do. 
My passport was vised without being looked at, my 
baggage unquestioned, my trunk keys refused when 
proffered, and the usual fee declined. All this I re- 
ceived as a tribute to my country, and warmly 
thanked the chief official for it. His rejoinder was 
" Ah, vous etes Am^ricain ! C'est une Paradis 
Terrestre ! " Finding, on inquiry, that Sir Robert's 
barouche was not here, but at Brussels, I made 
choice of a comfortable vehicle and good driver to 
take us there. .... 

This morning, Thursday, breakfast was scarcely fin- 
ished when Mr. Cornelisson of the University of 



184 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

Ghent, to whom I had sent my card and letter of in- 
troduction the evening before, was announced. He 
immediately planned our day for us, and while our 
carriage was getting ready set off for the university, 
there to meet us. This is a noble specimen of royal 
patronage, doing in six years the work of a century in 
fostering education and science. Its present number 
of students is five hundred. Fortunately this was the 
day of the commencement ceremonial, which, how- 
ever, was not till three p. m., so we bade Mr. Cor- 
nelisson farewell till that hour. Finding our way to 
the cathedral, we entered during high mass, the 
splendor of which and its impressiveness on the 
imagination, I had never before witnessed, nor even 
conceived. 

Three o'clock found us again at the university, 
where, with great pomp, in the quasi presence of 
majesty, amid the flourish of trumpets, the rewards 
were declared, and medals of honor hung round the 
necks of the successful students as they kneeled to 
receive them at the hands of the president of the 
university. One touching incident occurred. The 
father of one of the first medalists, a chief burgher 
of the city, was seated on the stage when his son 
advanced, about to kneel to the president, but a wave 
of hands directed him to his father, on kneeling to 
whom the chain of gold, with its accompanying medal, 
was hung upon his neck amid the plaudits of all. 

After a drive through the public grounds we visited 

the convent of , the last great nunnery remaining 

in the Netherlands. Having inspected the interior, 



THE CONTINENT. 185 

we attended the chapel at vespers, where seven hun- 
dred kneehng figures without form, except here and 
there two outstretched arms from under their long 
veils, black below and white abov€, formed a specta- 
cle as striking as it was new. But the interior of 
the convent was neither melancholy nor romantic, 
being self-supporting through teaching and needle- 
work. I heard as hearty a laugh from the lady 
abbess, in answer to some simple question of mine, 
as I ever heard. The sisters take no vows, and may 
quit at any time they please, though my conductress 
said that in her own case she was not likely to do so, 
as she was happier than a queen ; " for queens," said 
she, " sometimes have to flee fi'om their homes, as the 
Queen of France the other day." We parted with 
mutual kindly feelings. 

The Belgians appear to be both by nature and 
habit a very thriving, contented people. They work 
moderately, live comfortably, and look healthy and 
long-lived. The men you see toward evening gath- 
ering into circles in their picturesque caps and large 
silver shoe-buckles, playing at quoits, or with their 
favorite pipe and pot of ale, not carousing, but quietly 
sittmg on the "dry, smooth, shaven green," or on 
benches under the shade of some ancestral tree at 
the door of a temperate-looking, quiet ale-house. 
The women, meanwhile, at such hour, appear in their 
best, — gold earrings, rich lace caps, or fringed cloaks 
and hoods, — spinning or knitting just outside their 
door, with children in groups of eight or ten engaged 
in play, or work so light that they make play of it. 



186 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

In this country, except its level surface, everything 
is picturesque. The houses have all a mediseval 
look, grouped with angles and projections awakening 
curiosity, while the interiors puzzle you with their 
numerous and intricate divisions. Their horses look 
as if they had just stepped out of Van Dyke's can- 
vas, — war-horses, full-limbed, hollow-backed, with 
crested necks, and sweeping tails touching the ground, 
and manes as rich and heavy. And they may well 
look proud under their master's care, judging at least 
from our own hired team. Every few miles the 
driver stopped, went to their heads, gave them some- 
thing from his pocket, and seemed to have a little talk 
with them. At length the lunch time having come, 
he opened a box in the carriage and taking out a 
handsome brown loaf, with his ever ready pocket- 
knife proceeded to help, not himself, but his horses, 
giving them alternately slice after slice till they were 
satisfied. In short, nothing is fed raw to any of their 
animals — all ground and cooked. But falling into 
conversation with an intelligent tradesman, I found 
the people restless and discontented; taxes heavy, 
all forms of business under privilege, and all for the 
benefit of Holland ; nothing for their own Belgium. 

Tuesday, August 17. — Huy on the Meuse. — 
.... This is our first appearance in oar borrowed 
splendor, and I must give you some idea of it. Our 
carriage is of Russian form, though probably Paris 
built, covered or open at pleasure, capacious and com- 
fortable, with cushions and stuffings, with innumerable 
pockets at the sides and nettings above, and a boot 



THE CONTINENT. 187 

below opening from within for convenience and safety, 
and a seat in front for the courier. To this vehicle 
are harnessed four post-horses, and at times six, all 
governed by a single post-boy with more gold and 
scai'let about him than belongs to a general. His 
seat is on the ofF-wheeler, governing the leaders by 
reins and by the crack of his far-sounding whip. His 
"jack-boots," come half-way up his thighs, his great 
spurs rattling like bells, which last, however, are not 
wanting to the horses, who jingle along, dressed out 
also with innumerable scarlet tassels. Amid this 
display, the postilion stands chief, and is in fact an 
officer of government. In such style we yesterday 
rattled out of Brussels, and such must it continue 
henceforward, " coute qui coute." .... 

Saturday^ August 21. — On reaching Andernach 
on the Rhine, we stopped, and finding my host an 
intelligent listener, I expressed my surprise at what 
seemed the evident neglect of early education in the 
absence of school-houses, giving him a picture of our ' 
American public schools. He smiled and said, " Ours 
is still more exact and complete." On my still doubt- 
ing, he said, " Go with me now and judge for your- 
self." I went, and was soon convinced of my error. 
" Law," said he, " overrales parental neglect. No 
man has a right to throw fire-brands into the com- 
munity, and such is every ignorant, vicious youth. 
Education is therefore a matter of police, and so 
efficient that I venture to assert that in this city of 
thirty thousand inhabitants not a child is to be found, 
however poor or degraded the parents, who cannot, 



188 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

at the age of eight, read, write, cipher, and sing 
noted music from the blackboard. Botany and 
drawing is also practically studied with a benevolent 
end, large colored engravings of the poisonous plants 
of the country, in their various stages, being hung 
around the walls for the children to copy and thus 
become familiar with." 

After an excellent breakfast with " cQtelettes de 
mouton au naturel," the hardest thing in cookery to 
get from a German cuisine, we set off on our road 
to Coblentz, ten miles, in company with a Prussian 
Prince and suite in command of a " Corps d' Armee," 
encamped on our way on the very bank of the Rhine. 
About midway we approached them, and finding 
their religious services about opening, we waited 
and joined in them. It was to us not only a novel 
but a splendid and solemn service. The white tents 
and varied flags, spread over a noble plain running 
down to the flowing Rhine, with all its picturesque 
surroundings, was a most impressive scene ; but still 
more the congregation of ten thousand full armed 
troops in their array, in profound silence, before a 
single preacher, uncovering their heads with military 
precision at the same moment at the voice of prayer, 
or pealing forth one of Luther's grand hymns in the 
deepest tones of dear " Fader-Land," — this was a 
service not soon to be forgotten. 

Dined to-day at the table d'hote with a numer- 
ous and varied party, some English and Russians, but 
chiefly Prussian officers of high rank. The dinner 
was a truly German affair, six courses and almost as 



THE CONTINENT. 189 

many hours, with music to fill up the intervals. A 
painful contrast it was to the poor fare of the soldiers 
in the camp, one meal in twenty-four hours, and that 
a slim one ; his pay five groschen, two retained for 
his rations, and his bread to be bought beside. Prus- 
sia, next to Russia, has at present the largest military 
establishment in Europe ; nominally 350,000, actually 
140,000, and that from a population of but twelve 
millions ; — too much for the prosperity of their peo- 
ple, especially along the Rhine, who complain that 
the exactions of the Prussians are treble those of the 
French. To the latter they look as their friends, 
having broken up the old baronial tenures, dissolved 
religious houses, and sold their lands, making the oc- 
cupants generally proprietors. The King of Prussia 
has long promised the people a " Constitution," but 
as yet has not found it convenient to give one. The 
approaching marriage of the prince with his cousin, 
of the Netherlands bids fair to liberalize their policy. 
But even Holland has its own troubles in its rebeL 
lious Belgium, which looks to union with France, ,on' 
the score both of safety and trade, and above all, 
as freeing them from their most hated tax, to pay 
Dutch debts and maintain Dutch dikes. But not- 
withstanding this grumbling, Belgium has grown rich 
under Dutch rule. I have been everywhere struck 
with the good sense and liberality displayed by the 
king in the employment of his great wealth. In 
silent partnership with a great English manufacturer 
and machinist, he has spread his factories over half 
the kingdom, and is daily bringing the coal and iron 



190 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

and stone of Belgium into the same great operative 
agency they perform in England. Now of this ubiq- 
uitous Messrs. Cockrell & Co., the king suppHes the 
capital, and is the humble "iCo." 

Rose early to enjoy a fine morning in the great 
square of Coble ntz, with military, music and parade. 
The Prussian drill is certainly the perfection of me- 
chanical movement ; whether equally favorable to the 
higher elements of the soldier may be questioned, but 
not that Prussia lives on the reputation of it, and 
seeks to rise again into a first-rate military power. 
Its policy is essentially preparation for war. From 
the age of twenty to twenty-three every man is 
necessarily a soldier, though if engaged in a profes- 
sion he may get off with one year's actual service, 
but for this last there can be neither substitute nor 
excuse. Its military system, too, is so effective that 
within ten days the whole military population of the 
kingdom can be equipped, armed, and brought into 
the field 

Friday, August 27. — Heidelberg. — Arriving 
here about noon, I proceeded immediately to deliver 
my letter of introduction to Professor Schlosser of 
the university, and one of its most eminent teachers. 
Not finding him at home, I groped my way in Ger- 
man to the university, and in it to the great hall, 
where a dignitary from his lofty cathedra was trying 
the competency of a " Professeur Suppl^mentaire," 
in the department of History. When over, I found 
the examiner to be Professor Schlosser himself, and 
with him, polite and friendly, have passed the greater 
part of the day^ 



THE CONTINENT. 191 

The professors hold themselves high in this uni- 
versity, on the score of liberal principles, looking 
with contempt on Austi'ia and all its schools. On 
my asking about Frederick Schlegel, — "Ah," said 
he, " il est mort," — he is gone to Austria. To his 
brother William, at Bonn, he has furnished me with 
a letter through Niebuhr the historian. While fresh 
in my memory, I will add a few notes of what I saw 
in the university. In no lecture-room were there 
more than twenty-five students, seated at forms, shab- 
bily arranged and scribbled over with names and 
pictures, chiefly of college duels, etc. When the 
professor enters, the students, being all seated, neither 
rise nor show any mark of respect. He lectures 
standing, beginning immediately with a good deal of 
action, each student with pen, ink, and paper before 
him. The professor opens by laying down very 
slowly and distinctly, reading from his notes, the 
general propositions of his lecture, and then proceeds, 
in order, to unfold and prove them. The outline 
each student takes down verbatim^ to the rest he 
listens and takes notes. In no room did I see idle- 
ness or irregularity, but constant attention and per- 
fect silence, and this not the result of discipline, of 
which there is none, — no roll-call, no examination, 
and even for a degree but one, and that not aca- 
demic but by government officials. The degree is 
a legal requisite in every profession, and for that 
end valued ; but still out of the eight hundred Hei- . 
delberg students not one tenth take it, the rest re- 
ceiving merely a certificate from such individual 



192 LIFE OF JOHN W^VICKAR. 

professors as the student selects. The number of 
professors is about thirty-five, and, including supple- 
mental, about sixty. Salaries in value from fifty to 
two thousand dollars. I still prefer the English sys- 
tem, and have seen nothing yet to rival Oxford. 

Saturday Night, August 28. — Baden-Baden. — 
. . . . The roads are all excellent, macadamized, 
made or making, with heaps of the ready-made ma- 
terial at the sides. Around these the bright-flowering 
toad-flax finds shelter, driven from the fields on to 
the roads, having been our constant companion 
through England, Wales, Scotland, and thus far on 
the Continent. The name of " Macadam " bids fair 
to rival that of Napoleon here. The usual answer 
to our inquiry as to roads, is, " Bonnes, toutes Mac- 
adam." The State of Baden, in which we are, is 
both the largest and best governed of the small 
principalities, and prospering beyond the largest. 
The villages, which in Prussia are cramped and 
filthy, are here neat, open, and picturesque. The 
peasantry are not only comfortable but rich, the land 
divided and worked by the owners. The reigning 
family is Protestant, but the peasantry generally of 
the Romish faith. This being the king's birthday, 
he holds court at Baden and crowns the day with a 
grand ball, and we have stayed to see it. 

I pass over the enormous public rooms and the 
unlimited circles of waltzers and musicians, to speak 
of that which was altogether new to me, the desper- 
ate scenes of gambling. There was something awfiil 
in the aspect of the players and the dread silence 



THE CONTINENT. 193 

which prevailed, with every eye fixed on the turn of 
chance, and the various heaps of gold on the table 
waiting the decision, and above all the rapidity with, 
which the croupier, with his long-handled rake,, 
every few minutes, swept the whole into some unseen, 
pocket. Peasants and princes were freely mixed, 
and, to my surprise, among them our new courier, in, 
a full suit of black, who, stepping up to the table' 
alongside of Prince Lichenstein, laid down upon it a. 
piece of gold, turning to me and saying, " Master,, 
that is for you." This startled me into my propriety,, 
and directing him to take it up, I turned upon my 
heel and quitted the rooms. 

. . . . Our dinner was more interesting than^ 
usual. After a long conversation with my German 
neighbor, I found I was conversing with an author 
and brother professor, Dr. Rotteck, Professor of 
Natural and Political Law in the University of Frei.- 
burg. Beyond him at the table sat Tieck, the Wal- 
ter Scott of Germany. After dinner, being intro- 
duced, I had with him much interesting conversation,; 
we hope to meet him again in Switzerland. 

Our ride this evening was under the shadow of the 
Black Forest and the Hartz Mountains, where we 
beheld, with proper awe, frowning from one of its 
summits, the fastness of the last of its robber heroes. 
In the cultivated fields we here met for the first time 
an old American friend, the pumpkin, showing his 
yellow face amid the corn. 

Monday, August 30. — After an early breakfast at 
Kehl we engaged a carriage for Strasbourg,.crossing. 

13 



194 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

the Rhine into France for the day. To avoid cus- 
tom-house delays we left our carriage and baggage, 
and armed ourselves only with passports and courier. 
The latter seems at home wherever he goes, and to- 
day quite surprised us by appearing in a new role. 
As we approached the frontier, taking from his pocket 
two Revolutionary cockades, and fixing one in his 
cap, he handed the other to me, saying, " Master, 
please attach this to your dress." On my refusal, he 
said, " You will not be safe without it." To my re- 
ply, " You are my courier, wear it ; that is suflScient," 
he answered again, " But I have to ask you to excuse 
me for the day, and take a valet de place, as I find 
that the commandant at Strasbourg was my colonel at 
Waterloo, and it is my duty to call on him." We 
now crossed the Rhine on its famous bridge of boats, 
entering for the first time the territory of revolution- 
ary France. As forewarned, all was bristling with 
war. To the numerous challenges of sentinels, our 
courier proved the sufficient passport, but all were 
under arms, and the tricolor flag floated everywhere, 
and the tricolor cockade was in every cap ; from the 
peasant at his work in the fields, to the dirty gamin 
in the streets, all wore the national badge, and scarce 
a window was without its little flag. I still, however, 
trusted to " Je suis Am^ricain," and, on reaching our 
•inn, left free our courier in exchange for a valet. 
. . . . The university or college was visited, with 
its solitary Protestant theology, where Professor Hepp, 
on whom I called, received me with the greatest 
kindness, and furnished me with all the information 



THE CONTINENT. 195 

I desired. Our courier reported himself at last, and 
we proceeded on our return. On questioning him as 
to a splendid pendant he was wearing, he replied, 
that on visitino; his colonel he had directed him at 
once to resume the Cross of the Legion of Honor, 
which Napoleon had himself given him, and which, 

up to this time, he had worn secretly 

Thursday, September 2. — Zurich. — .... 
After dinner, the brothers Pestalozzi, so famous for 
their schools, called on us and accompanied us to the 
chief points of interest in and about the city. How I 
envy such old cities their contiguity to the retirement 
and beauty of the country, unknown to our ever-build- 
ing, never-finished towns. The Pestalozzi say that, 
amid all their in-door labors, they find time for daily 
country walks. On hiquiry into the present state 
of Switzerland, I find here, as elsewhere. Napoleon's 
rule was felt as a blessing-, and the loss of it lamented. 
Their great national evil was, and is, want of power 
in their confederation. The pacification of Napoleon 
corrected this for a time, and now all sensible Swiss 
feel the want, and vainly seek a remedy. To help 
them to it, I have pressed in conversation our revo- 
lutionary experience — the futility of our old " Con- 
federation " and the blessings of our present " Union." 

Sunday Night, September 4. — Top of the Righi. 
— Wakened this morning at the hospice amid the 
bowlings of the Alpine storm. We looked out, but 
we were in the clouds ; earth there was none, and the 
loaded chalet was like a boat rocking in the storm. 



196 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

About eleven o'clock it cleared somewhat, and as the 
view opened it was something beyond the power of 
words to paint. There seemed a bright world spread 
out before us, alternately closed and seen, as the cloud 
in which we were enveloped, like a great curtain 
raised or slit, gave us glimpses sharp and clear of the 
scene below us. The view from the edge of the cliff 
is not only splendid but unique. Righi, as being a 
spur of the Alps, jutting out into level Switzerland in 
the circle of its many lakes, unites in one view all its 
beauties. Mountains, lakes, towns, and cultivated 
fields, all are under your eye. On the north you 
look over its richest portion, even to the Hartz Moun- 
tains and the Black Forest of Germany. On the 
south you gaze on the ramparts of eternal snow and 
the glaciers of the higher Alps, which even at this 
distance glow so brightly that it seems as if you could 
touch them with your outstretched hand, while all 
around you lie lakes and villages innumerable, now 
brilliant with the setting sun, and its magnificent pur- 
ple tints 

Berne, Saturday, September 11. — This has been 
a day of real travel. We left Interlaken at six in 
the morning, having engaged a boat the evening be- 
fore for our especial party. Just as our boat pushed 
off I noticed our boatman turn away two soldiers 
whom I had seen hurrying down in hope of a pas- 
sage ; I called after them and took them in. They 
proved to be two Swiss of the regiment that had suf- 
fered most in the late " three days " at Paris, and 
were now returning to their homes at Meyringen for 



THE CONTINENT. 197 

the first time after an absence, one of fourteen, the 
other of eighteen years. Their regiment had been 
literally cut to pieces, mainly through the fury of the 
populace excited by the cruel pertinacity of their 
commander, Count de Salis. A summons of surren- 
der being sent to him, he ordered the messenger to 
be thrown from the third story window. The massa- 
cre of fifteen hundred was the revenge. I was glad 
to help these poor survivors to their home. The 
Swiss are a home-loving people. Of this the crew of 
our barge is a sample. The old father and mother 
row one oar ; the eldest son another ; the daughter, 
aided by her little brother, a third ; while the young- 
est, a sickly girl, reposes on a bench by their side. 
The gay head-dresses accord strangely with the hard 
work, the old mother's face being almost covered by 
the deep lace hanging down from her black velvet 
caj) — and such figures we see repeatedly behind 

wheelbarrows and wash-tubs 

To while away the time of a rather long voyage, 
I entered into talk with our courier, Felix, about his 
great patron, Metternich, on whose recommendation 
I had taken him. The orio-in of the name was a title 
of honor. The family name was Metter. His grand- 
father was in the last unfortunate battle with the 
Turks, when the emperor, being told that all fled, 
replied, ' Metter nich,' — a Metter never fled, — 
hence the name. The Prince Metternich, he says, is 
of small stature, quick of temper, yet mild. He has 
suffered much from domestic misfortune. Wife and 
children all gone, he is left alone, and busies himself, 



198 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

not in solitude, but in the turmoils of a busy official 
life. Thus has he placed himself at the head of the 
diplomats of Europe, and become almost an arbiter in 

the affairs of the Continent 

Monday, September 13. — Giez. — At last at the 
ancient mansion of the DeRham family, where we 
have been received with a warmth of kindness be- 
yond all claim. Perfect home in all but our native 
tongue, though kind hearts at once made our bad 
French good. The house itself is extensive and 
irregular, of various dates and styles, but uniting 
together the comforts and conveniences of all. The 
grounds are beautiful by nature, and improved in 
English taste and in the neatest order, while the view 
around is a perfect panorama of Alps from the Righi 

to Mont Blanc Mr. and Mrs. Huber, 

their highly interesting neighbors, joined us at dinner. 
Talking of Pestalozzi, we found he was of this imme- 
diate neighborhood, and more than one of this family 
his early pupils. Like most warm-hearted enthusiasts 
in education, the novelty of his system once passed, 
its influence was gone, and an old age of chagrin and 
disappointment awaited one of the most benevolent 
of men. His school began in the voluntary and 
unpaid charge of the orphans made by the French 
invasion of the Canton of Unterwalden. It contin- 
ued in the same spirit and in such success in its edu- 
cational system of teaching " things " rather than 
" words," that his fame extended throughout Europe, 
drawing scholars from every quarter. In early age 
his system was very effective, but failed when Ian- 



THE CONTINENT. 199 

guages were to he tauglit, and sciences founded upon 
languages and symbolic signs ; so that from his 
school came forth many good citizens but no superior 
men. Its reputation is, however, renewed by Fel- 
lenburg, whom we visited at Berne, a more practi- 
cal, but less attractive man, though marked by ready 
talent and great ingenuity of means. The cost of the 
unpaid school, a large one, is more than met by the 
labor of the scholars, while the pay school is sustained 
by its foreign reputation, chiefly from England and 
Prussia. Its chief influence is on character, encour- 
aging independence up near to the limit of insubor- 
dination. Vocal music is much looked to for its moral 
and moderating power. But enough of education. 

Having noticed in our drives many mountain 
streams bridgeless and impassable, because of the nar- 
row span to which they are confined in their wooden 
bridges, limited by the lengtli of a single timber, I 
suggested the recent patent of " triangulation " of 
timbers as givino- stiffness and almost unlimited length 
to a bridge made of ordinary plank. Mr. DeRham 
appeared greatly struck with the importance of its 
application here, and, at his request, I prepared a 
card model exhibiting it. 

Thursday, September 16. — Lausanne. — Before 
parting with our kind friends we drove together to 
the Rubers', as we had promised, and found them 
both busy in preparing some little memorials for us. 
I had much talk with Mr. Huber touching his favor- 
ite insects, the ants, and his father's rival, the bees. 
The elder Huber lost his sight while still engaged in 



200 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

his observations, and completed them through the 
eyes of a faithful attendant, and with his wife as an 
amanuensis. Mr. Huber is a man of great simplicity, 
both of manners and character, but withal a thorough 
enthusiast. On asking him rather in badinage, which 
of the two, bees or ants, he regarded the wisest, his 
answer I felt as a reproof to my levity. " Equally 
wise," said he, " in the higher sense of instincts, 
equally fitted to their respective conditions, but I find 
the condition of the ants most analogous to that of 
man. In the instinct of the bee," he said, " there was 
a certain finesse of governnient and intercourse far 
beyond that of man, but in that of the ants he found 
what he would term the perfection of human society. 
It was the perfection of order and self-government. 
He could never discern that any order was given, 
but each one knew his place and duty, and of him- 
self fulfilled it. It was, in short, the model of a per- 
fect republic." Here we took a final leave of our 
kind friends and Swiss home, and were again on the 
wide world. 

Stopping at a village to rest our horses, I wandered 
into a blacksmith's shop where two men were en- 
gaged in setting a horse's shoe. I ventured to in- 
struct them in our simpler method of a single operator. 
They first doubted, then admired, and finally ended 
with preferring their own fashion. Arrived about 
three o'clock in the afternoon at Lausanne and its 
beautiful lake. Having some letters I sent them off 
by our courier, with cards. At dinner, met a con- 
versible Englishman, rara avis, one neither too proud 



THE CONTINENT. 201 

nor too suspicious to converse with strangers. After 
dinner, took a stroll to the public promenade, over- 
looking the lake, and on returning to our hotel met a 
gentleman just retiring from the door with a card in 
his hand. A glance showed me that it was my own, 
and the bearer of it, on my addressing Wm, proved 
to be M. Kock, son of our banker at Frankfort. He 
greeted us with great warmth, saying they had been 
on the lookout for us for the month past. He im- 
mediately became our guide and host for the remain- 
der of the day, reminding me of the words of Huber 
on parting, that, for pleasant and instructive travel, 
one must pass " not from auherge to auherge, but 
from man to man." Among the pleasant incidents 
of our walk with our conductor, was a visit to the 
Archery Club, a beautiful terrace overlooking the lake, 
with appropriate buildings. On asking M. Kock, 
one of the wealthiest and busiest bankers of the city, 
whether he ever practiced with the bow, in answer, 
he drew from his waistcoat pocket a small key, and 
opening one of the numerous little cabinets, exhibited 
all his outfit as an archer, saying at the same time, 
" This is my daily exercise and amusement, and 
equally so with my friends." How I envied for my 
countrymen and friends in business such wise recre- 
ation from the slavery of " Rem facias rem," the 
unending toil for wealth, ruinous alike to heart and 
head, to the enjoyment of home and the true hap- 
piness of life. As I remember Captain Basil Hall 
saying to me of New York, " I see many here who 
know how to make wealth, but few who know how 
to enjoy it." 



202 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Sunday^ Septemher 19. — Hospice. — Summit of 
the Great St. Bernard, 7,668 feet above the level of 
the sea, truly a day of rest and religious thankful- 
ness, after the toils of yesterday. After an early 
cup of coffee, mules and guides, a trusty one for each, 
having been over night provided for by our faithful 
Felix, at six o'clock we set forth cheered by a bright 
sun peeping over the mountains and the vivas 
of the crowd of gazers. The " Hospice " was not 
as yet within our thoughts ; we were considered too 
late in the season for that ; our only doubt being 
between the Col de Balme and the Tete-Noir, 
the mountain passes, leading to the Vale of Cha- 
mouni, at the foot of Mont Blanc. But as we pro- 
ceeded our courage rose under the influence of strong 
desire and the fair day, and when choice had to be 
made, I called a council of our guides and asked their 
judgment. On the first point they were unanimous, 
" No storm to-day ; " as to the second, " It was not 
their part to say." So on we went, with good cour- 
age and cheerful hearts, though saddened by the 
frequent mementoes of desolation from the great 
mountain torrent of twelve years ago, arising from 
the breaking away of a mountain lake through its 
icy barriers. Of the village of Martigny, three 
fourths were swept away. The stone house in which 
we slept last night bore the inscription and mark of 
fifteen feet submerged, and our present path carried 
us over the ruins of three or four villages it had 
totally destroyed. The story is even now on every 
tongue, and our guides tell of it as a thing of yester- 



THE CONTINENT. 203 

day. It occurred about four o'clock in the afternoon 
on the 18th of June, 1818. The danger being fore- 
seen and inevitable, every precaution was taken for its 
early notice. For a long time watchmen were sta- 
tioned on the intervenino; heights and beacon fires 
prepared to give the alarm, but all proved fruitless. 
Within forty-five minutes it swept the valley for 
thirty-seven miles, carrying everything before it. In 
one village but one person escaped, a young woman, 
still living, who was carried oflp by the flood and 
thrown ashore some distance below. While sympa- 
thizing Avith this distant peril, a nearer one came be- 
fore us, in the narrative of two young Englishmen, 
perishing on Monday last, on the mountain before 
us, caught in one of the temfic snow-storms of the 
Alps. But our own case now pressed upon us. Our 
fair morning was gone, changed first to heavy clouds, 
then to settled rain. The half-way village was 
passed, a perilous bridge, and the Rock Gallery, with a 
thousand feet of rock above us, when the rain came 
down in torrents, and the thunder rebellowed through 
the mountains with vivid flashes of lightning. Meeting 
a traveller descending, our guides questioned him with 
eagerness, whether it was snow above. The answer, 
" Rain," was cheering, though our path was growing 
more and more Alpine. On reaching a group of 
rude huts, our guides counseled prudence, and ad- 
vised us to stop. It was our last choice, but on ex- 
amination, their filth conquered fear, and our word 
was " Go on." This they obeyed unwillingly, though 
prompted by larger pay. The only other work of 



204 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

man we encountered in our mountain path was the 
" Dead House," a low cavernous erection in the snow 
filled with the frozen corpses of lost travellers ; but 
by the mercies of God we escaped that fate, and at 
length reached the long desired sight of the Hospice, 
calling into our eyes tears of joy and thankfulness. 
A bright gleam of the setting sun cheered our en- 
trance into the' dark but blessed shelter. Not often 
has even this Hospice received more willing guests. 
We had been nine hours on our mules without rest- 
ing, and never before had any of us travelled in such 
severity of weather. But its ever open doors had 
now received us, a fire in the room appropriated to 
strangers soon made us comfortable, and the kindness 
and agreeable conversation of the two " fathers " 
who received us, made us quickly forget our perils 
and exertions. The two fathers were our enter- 
tainers, the Prieur, Claushal, head of the house, and 
the Sous-prieur, Prevot, a younger man of most pre- 
possessing manners and conversation. From him we 
received double attention, from the accidental dis- 
covery, through a beautiful sketch of Sir Robert 
Inglis' seat at Clapham, that our chief English 
friends were his correspondents, and had recently 
sent him that picture, done by Sir Robert's niece after 
their late visit to the Hospice. Both these fathers 
I find to be educated scholars, and, in the best sense, 
men of the world, from their living familiarly with 
educated and liberal men of every nation during 
their frequent visits here. 

Sunday. — After yesterday's fatigue, and a com- 



THE CONTINENT. 205 

fortable night's rest, we rose early to behold the tem- 
pest of snow we had so narrowly and providentially 
escaped. The dogs and men have been out on search 
bringing in travellers, but mainly peasants from the 
Italian side. Their kind fi'iends, the dogs, were all 
around us, large, sagacious, for centuries a peculiar 
breed, — a cross, it is said, between the great Danish 
dog and the native dog of the Alps, trained to gen- 
tleness, but on needful occasion capable of great 
fierceness, as was instanced some years since in sav- 
ing the Hospice from a band of robbers, who, ad- 
mitted as suffering travellers, at dead of night, and 
demanding admission to the treasure room, w^ere ad- 
mitted to the dog-kennel instead, and in an instant 
every robber had a dog at his throat, and his life 
at the mercy of an unarmed monk. But I turn to 
the Hospice itself, and the life to which it calls its 
votaries. In the first place it is the highest spot in- 
habited by man on the Continent of Europe, perhaps 
of the Old World, where all vegetation has ceased, 
winter three fourths of the year, the thermom- 
eter often at zero in the summer, and in winter often 
at twenty-five below it. The number of the professed 
is unlimited, but in fact seldom exceeds thirty, of 
whom from ten to twelve occupy this station, the 
remainder at their lower homes, or engaged in 
travel, and gathering alms for the Hospice, an ever 
open inn, without charge beyond the voluntary con- 
tribution of visitors. On Sunday last four new " ap- 
plicants " presented themselves. Their course is one 
year's " novitiate " free, and then the threefold vow 



206 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

of poverty, obedience, and celibacy, taken irrevocably. 
Ten years' residence at the Hospice is then expected, 
— as long as most can stand, though two of the present 
number have exceeded twenty. The older and bet- 
ter educated have among their benevolent labors the 
training and instruction of the younger. 

At half past four o'clock this morning we were 
awakened by the matin bell, and hastily dressing 
and groping our way through the long dark corridors 
at a freezing temperature, we reached the chapel 
door, guided by chanting voices and the glimmer of 
the light within. On opening the door we found 
ourselves alone in the gallery of a small but beautiful 
chapel richly adorned and brilliantly lighted. The 
music of the organ and choir, the splendid dresses of 
the celebrant, all contributed to form a scene as of 
magic in those frozen solitudes, and deeply affecting 
to our better feelings. Not neglecting our own de- 
votions, we again attended high mass at ten o'clock 
and vespers at five. The intermediate time was 
spent chiefly in their museum, where I lighted on a 
specimen from the neighborhood, evidently of an- 
thracite coal. This led to some instruction as to the 
means of using it as fuel, which delighted them, as 
their only resource is a scanty supply of little sticks 
brought up the mountain on the back of mules, a 
distance of nine leagues. A few minutes sufficed to 
draft a flue capable, I trust, of igniting and using it. 
In the course of the day, the storm having ceased, 
I visited the neighboring " Morgue," a low stOne 
erection, buried in snow, where the frozen dead are 



THE CONTINENT. 207 

deposited. Its only door is opened but for their 
reception, while its only window, low and grated, 
affords the ghastly view of frozen humanity, ranged 
around the walls in all the varying attitudes in 
which death had seized them, some deeply affecting. 
Among them was a mother with a child still clasped 
to her breast. The bodies of all uncorrupt through 
extreme cold, but gradually passing into the state of 
mummies. From this sight I gladly turned to the 
historical mementoes by which I was surrounded. 
This "pass" over the Alps was known to the Romans 
in their far-reaching arms, and was probably the one 
by which Hannibal crossed. The remains of a tem- 
ple of Jupiter are still traceable, and coins and votive 
offerings are found among them. Among these was 
one for a safe return from the perils of the summit, 
which brought to mind the thank-offering we hope to 
make on the morrow for our safe descent from the 
same. 

Monday Evening., September 20. — Martigny. — 
Safely down from the mountain. Awakened this 
morning at the Hospice before day by the early 
matin bell, and soon after still more thoroughly by 
the pealing organ, which in these frozen solitudes 
sounds like enchantment. We rose and attended for 
the last time services in which the Roman ritual 
appears in its most attractive form. A bright sun 
soon illumined the peaks of ice around, and tempted 
me again to the little lake lying at the foot of the* 
Hospice where a stone column marks the boundary 
line of Italy, carrying off from it a fragment of a 



208 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

Roman brick in memory of my invasion. It is with 
feelings of regret too strong for expression that I 
here turn my back upon Italy. But time limited 
and duty, forbid. 

After a mountain breakfast and warm adieu to all, 
accompanied by one of our kind hosts, M. Barras, 
who insisted on seeing us safe down, we set out on 
our descent, which, from its perilous nature had to 
be made on foot, our mules led by the guides. After 
descending about two leagues destitute of vegetable 
life, we entered on the region of Arctic growth, — 
larch, fir, and other evergreens ; thence descending 
to the fruit-bearing trees, we found first the cherry, 
then the apple. It is pleasing to notice how natu- 
rally the mind seems turned to piety in these peril- 
ous regions. Scarce a habitation for man appeared 
without some words of pious thought carved in stone 
over the door, an ever present memento, as, " La 
Volont^ de Dieu soit faite ; " "Dieu soit benin;" 
and on an overarching rock among the crags, a place 
of shelter from sudden tempest, I noticed, " L'Eter- 
nel est mon Rocher." As we proceeded, our com- 
panion from the Hospice was warmly greeted by 
every peasant we met, and had in return for each 
some word of kindness. It was a whole year since 
he had been down or seen aught but ice and barren 
rock, and as we approached the green fields he ob- 
served that the feelings awakened by the sight are 
I such as none but a monk of the Hospice can conceive. 
At the hamlet of Lydde, having seen us through our 
dangers, and partaken of our dinner, we parted j he 



THE CONTINENT. 209 

returnins: to his mountain home, we to our renewed 
journey, to meet perhaps with older but not warmer 

friends 

Such are some of the perils that hedge round the 
ascent of the Great St. Bernard, but they are not 
always from the raging elements. Napoleon, in his 
celebrated ascent in 1800 with all his troops, twice 
incurred greater risk of life than in all his subsequent 
battles. Once, from his obstinacy in persisting to 
ride his war-horse where none but mules could step 
with safety, being precipitated from a cliff where the 
horse was killed and the rider only saved by the 
strono; arm of a guide. The second imminent risk 
was from the enemy. On approaching the summit 
of the pass, accompanied by two officers, he pre- 
ceded the march of his advanced guard so far that 
on a sudden turn among the cliffs he found himself 
in the face of a small picket-guard of Austrians. 
They receiving no satisfactory answer to their chal- 
lenge, leveled their muskets awaiting the word 
" Fire." Their officer, however, not dreaming of the 
probability of a French force ascending a path where 
a mule could scarce find footing, checked them, and 
advancing claimed them as his prisoners. Napoleon, 
unmarked by dress, and unknown, without a direct 
answer, began in his rapid way some unimportant 
questions, engaging the officer's attention until by a 
glance of his eye perceiving the approach of his own 
troops he turned quickly to the young Austrian and 
said, " Sir, five minutes ago I was your prisoner, 
now you are mine ; this is the First Division of the 
14 



210 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Grand Army of France, and I am its commander." 
This was told me on the spot where it was said to 

have taken place 

Geneva, Monday^ September 27. — This day has 
been one of the highest interest through the letters 
of Mr. Gallatin, of New York, to his family here, his 
cousin being the present Syndic of this little repub- 
lic. My early hours were given up to literary guid- 
ance. Dr. CandoUes introducing me into the literary 
circle or club of Geneva, which is at present the 
school of philosophic thinkers for Europe. Sismondi, 
unfortunately, was absent. Their present subject of 
zealous benevolence is the penitentiary system, trying 
it themselves and recommending it to others. Du- 
mont, the banker, bears the expense. I was called 
upon to unfold our system. Their present problem 
is its introduction into France, in whose revolutionary 
affairs they take great interest. The Syndic has 
summoned for this very day their great Council, — 
two hundred and sixty deputies, representing sixty 
thousand inhabitants, — to deliberate on the present 
relations with France, and the expediency of recog- 
nizing Louis Philippe as its sovereign. To this 
solemn meeting I was invited by Syndic Gallatin. 
We ascended to the third story of the great square 
tower, from whose windows the whole national 
domain is visible, and that by a stairway as peculiar 
as the surroundings, being a paved road winding 
around an inner tower for the convenience of horse- 
back which was the official mode of ascent. I was 
admitted into the Council, though against rule, the 



THE CONTINENT. 211 

committee on the recognition not having yet made 
their report. On their entering I retired, and in a 
few minutes all was settled, the House concurred, 
Louis Philippe was acknowledged, and the word 
passed out "No war with France." 

Among the aristocratic peculiarities of Geneva I 
mention one. It is the existence in all the old fami- 
lies, running back many hundred years, of a common 
treasury or fund, bearing the family name, growing 
with the contributions of many generations, to pre- 
serve the name from the disgrace of penury, a family 
council in annual meeting hearing and answering 
claims. Among those family treasuries, that of the 
Gallatins, dating back some three hundred years, is 
among the largest. In an ancestral republic like 
that of Geneva and in a home-loving people like the 
Swiss, it has proved to be a wise, patriotic, and 
benevolent institution. 

Breaking away with difficulty from such scenes 
and such intercourse I returned to our hotel, finding 
there several friends, among others the Count de 
Sellon, with some dispatches to be intrusted to my 
care for Lafayette in Paris and Mr. Gallatin at 
home. After dinner, arrangino; our carriage for three 
horses to drive abreast, French fashion, we set off. 
The road along the lake shore was beautiful almost 
beyond imagination ; . around us was an all-placid 
loveliness ; on our right Mont Blanc in the distance, 
with its surrounding glaciers brilliant with the setting 
sun, and on our left the dark mountains of Jura. 



212 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Upon the ascent of these we shortly after entered, 
night closing upon us in savage solitude, but with a 
brilliant moon to light us. About midnight, we 
reached our welcome inn, standing alone on the very 
summit of the Jura. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

PARIS SOCIETY AFTER THE THREE DAYS : 1830. 

IjlRIDAY night, October 1, finds us in Paris, at 
-^ the "HStel Britannique," in a suite of rooms that 
would elsewhere be esteemed splendid. Last night 
we passed in our carriage, posting at a rapid rate all 
night. We have had four days' and two nights' hard 
driving from Geneva, the most dull, uninteresting 
country I ever passed through. One little incident 
varied its monotony and for a time awakened alarm. 
As we approached the outer environs of Paris, 
through a desolate tract covered with a wild growth 
of underwood, we encountered groups of ill-looking 
fellows prowling around, looking, as they said, for 
work : driven out of Paris, was their story, for firing 
on the people in the late revolution. While con- 
gratulating ourselves at having passed safely through 
these, we found ourselves suddenly surrounded by a 
body of men, armed to the teeth, to the number of 
at least a hundred, springing forth from the wild 
copsewood through which we were passing and where 
they had lain hidden, surrounding our carriage and 
seizing our postilions, for with our heavy carriage 
we were posting with four horses, and demanding 
our passports. On these being shown to the com* 



214 LIFE OF JOHN MCVWKAR. 

mander of the party, he explained that they were 
awaiting in concealment the arrival of the first load 
of the Algerine treasure that day expected to arrive, 
and to guai'd it through this dangerous pass and be- 
yond the Faubourg St. Antoine. The groups we 
had previously met, he informed us, were dangerous 
men on their way to their place of exile, the Island 

of Corsica 

Attended this morning the levee of the Hon. Mrs. 
Rives, wife of our minister. Among others we there 
met our old friend Cooper, the novelist, travelling in 
search of a revolution, though unfortunate in point 
of time, complaining to me that Dresden broke out 
the day after he left it, and Paris finished the day 
before he reached it. I comforted him with my fears 
that the volcano, though quiet, was still boiling 
within. Another visit of more than ordinary interest 
was to the Due de Broglie, in his family as well as 
official hotel. Its arrangements partook of both, 
sofas and work tables at one fire-place of the grand 
salon, business, papers, etc., at the other, and before 
leaving I found that the duchess was equally at 
home at both. On entering she rose and received 
me with great kindness, for my letter was from an 
intimate friend in England. The difke soon joined 
us, his manners wanting the prestige of the old 
noblesse, an air of doubt, like one supported on 
bladders. After many inquiries about his fi'iends in 
England, an official message being brought to him to 
attend council, he rose and, apologizing, was about 
parting, when in answer to my casual wish expressed 



PARIS SOCIETY. 215 

to visit the Chamber of Deputies in session, I found 
by his answer that it was a privilege rarely granted 
in those unsettled times. On consulting his wife, he 
answered that I certainly should be admitted, but he 
could not at once name the day. Subsequently, at 
the termination of a most agreeable visit, the duchess 
added that she would send me an order for admission 
the day afler to-morrow. On mentioning this act of 
courtesy to our minister, Mr. Rives, he observed that 
it was a privilege hard to obtain. The approaching 
trial of Polignac and the other ministers of the late 
king, is looked forward to with apprehension. Speak- 
ing of Charles X., he said he was in manner the 
perfect gentleman, and a good man and honest, seek- 
ing only what he believed to be for the good of his 
people. I asked if he could say as much for Po- 
lignac ; he replied that, though blinded he was sincere, 
devotedly attached to his master, v.^hom he termed 
"the best of men," honestly believing that increase of 
the royal power was essential to the peace of France 
and hence of Europe. 

Dined at home and then to our evening engage- 
ment at the Marquis de Lafayette's, " le premier 
Homme de France." He looks younger than when 
in America, and now, at the age of seventy-three, 
passes through all the labors of an arduous office 
without seeming to feel it, and with manners alike 
courteous and kind ; towards Americans markedly 
so. As an instance, in the midst of the revolution, 
he broke oflF from absorbing engagements for an hour 
to attend the marriage of Miss S to young 



216 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

Irving, having given her his promise to be there, and 
to us he proffers all that kindness and influence can 
bestow. Among the notabilities present. General 
Gourgaud was to me particularly interesting in rela- 
tion to recent events and the course taken by La Fay- 
ette, towards whom there seems one united feeling 
of admiration for both his firmness and moderation. 
" France a republic and himself at the head " rested 
on his word, but he chose prudently as well as 
honorably, and, as it was said to me last night, " like 
the sun, shows grandest in going down." Returning 
to our hotel, we found cards with a note from the 
Duchess de Broglie, inclosing an order for the House 
of Deputies. 

Thursday, October 7. — The Assembly holds its 
meetings in the large but not splendid building oppo- 
site the bridge of Louis XVI. On presenting my 
ticket I was admitted into what seemed a box in a 
theatre, a resemblance running throughout the whole 
house. After an hour's delay the president took his 
seat on his central elevated tribune, the members 
gradually assuming their respective seats. The first 
question under debate was one of finance. That 
disposed of, the more interesting resolution of M. 
Tracy, abolishing the punishment of death, came up, 
doubly exciting under its immediate bearing on the 
unfortunate ministers of Charles X. It was intro- 
duced in a very ably written speech by M. Beran- 
ger, to which all listened with the silent attention 
given to a popular lecturer. When a member is 
speaking there is perfect silence, but after he is fin- - 



PARIS SOCIETY. 217 

ished great disorder prevails and it requires often 
five or ten minutes of the president's bell to restore 
order. The bell, by the way, is a very poor instru- 
ment for enforcing silence, and evidently annoys the 
president more than the members. Again, the neces- 
sity of a member quitting his seat and hurrying to 
the tribune is exceedingly awkward, and to an 
English or American speaker would be a great 
"damper." Not so with the Frenchman; he rushes 
to it as if bursting with enthusiasm, but on reaching 
it, his words are calm and collected, and, so far as I 
have observed, less passionate and more to the point 
than I have ever heard in a popular assembly, sel- 
dom more than from five to fifteen minutes in length. 
Nor is this because of being written, the good sense 
was evidently extempore, the truisms and rhetoric 
penned down. The day has been to me an exciting 
one, and I have listened for five hours without weari- 
ness to the revolutionary orators of the " three days " 
in Paris. 

Monday^ October 11. — After a morning spent in 
business arrangements, three o'clock found me at the 
palace of the Institute, by invitation, to attend a 
special meeting of the 'French Academy, to receive 
Humboldt on his return from the Himalayas. But 
unfortunately, it seemed, I was too late for admission, 
as appeared frohi a formal printed notice upon the 
closed doors of the splendid library in which their 
sessions are held. But while bemoaning my misfor- 
tune and despairing of relief, I was attracted to a 
second framed notice wherein I found my own name 



218 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAE. 

excepted from the rule under order of the president 
as having letters of introduction to him. I was 
accordingly formally ushered in through a crowd of 
external listeners to a chair within the inner circle of 
members, and near the table of the president. The 
paper under reading was the report upon a scientific 
question of a previous meeting. On the president's 
elevated tribune sat also three vice-presidents, among 
them Baron Cuvier. The next paper was a highly 
scientific one, " On the Motion of Bodies in Elastic 
Fluids." This was referred to a member for a special 
oral report. The next awakened more interest. A 
member approached the table with a manuscript of 
ominous bulk, which he began but did not finish 
without interruption. This arose through the con- 
troversy it excited with Baron Cuvier, whose teach- 
ing and facts were alike denied and rejected on the 
same subject, — the crocodile and its anatomy, — in a 
manner so offensive as to call for immediate rebuke. 
When finished, Cuvier, speaking from his seat, com- 
plained in strong yet gentlemanly terms of both the 
mode and measure of the attack. Rousing himself 
from his almost lethargic look with his head sinking 
between his shoulders, he spoke both courteously and 
forcibly. This brought from St. Hilaire a passionate 
rejoinder, when Cuvier terminated the discussion by 
a solemn pledge to the Academy of full proof at its 
next meeting. 

Humboldt now came forward, presenting to the 
Academy, in the name of their respective authors, 



PARIS SOCIETY. 219 

papers and books of foreign associates, and then 
opened upon the great interest of the evening, a 
rapid resume of his researches and travels in the 
Himalaya range, just completed under the patron- 
age of the Emperor of Russia. Hmnboldt's look is 
that of a true scientific traveller, somewhat weather- 
beaten, middle size, firm knit, hair gray, passing on 
to white, with a kindly expression, equal to a letter 
of introduction wherever he goes. He spoke with 
great modesty, assigning the chief merit of the re- 
sults of his journey to his philosophic companions, 
Ehrenborg of Gei'many, and M. Rodd. 

The reading of two more papers closed the 
seance, marked, I thought, both by more exact 
science than what I had heard in the Royal Society 
in London, and infinitely greater interest on the part 
both of members and of the public. After the sSance 
the president introduced me generally to members, 
but especially to Barons Cuvier and Humboldt, Avith 
both of whom, more especially the latter, whose Eng- 
lish was somewhat better than my French, I had 
much interesting talk 

After dinner, about eight o'clock, my wife and 
myself found ourselves en route for the Duchess 
de Broglie, to whom we had promised a visit en 
famille, and found her truly so, as domestic in her 
occupation and pleasures as if she were neither 
a duchess nor a prime minister's lady, surrounded by 
her children, all young, engaged in their usual studies 
or amvTsements. We found her alike lovely and 
interesting. As a daughter of Madame de Stael, 



^20 LIFE OF JOHN MCVTCKAR. 

literature and intercourse with literary men has been 
her natural inheritance, but softened and sanctified, 
as her mother was not, by a Christian faith and a 
Christian spirit, giving to her whole character a life, 
a purity, and gentleness particularly attractive, and 
such as in French society of the present age is sel- 
dom found. Such is the impress of religion on her 
life that she is often sneered at as a "M^thodiste." 
Among the subjects that brought forth her feelings 
was my incidental mention of Erskine of Edinburgh, 
who I found was her frequent correspondent. Of 
him she spoke, as I myself feel, with equal admira- 
tion for his talents and piety, and pity and apprehen- 
sion for his deepening trials. Our earnest talk was 
broken in upon- by a political visit of the Count de 
Bastard, a relative of the Prince de Polignac, whose 
case and probable fate awakens deep sympathy. The 
earnest persuasive influence of a Christian lady in 
high station was here appealed to, and not, it seemed, 
in vain. 

Tuesday, 12th. — Busy until one. Then drove to 
the " Caf^ de la R^gence," where, in New York 
Maelzel had told me I should meet all the great 
chess-players of Paris. On entering, I found silence, 
and chess-tables filled. An old Jew with a clear eye 
ibut trembling hand, was pointed out as one of the ce- 
lebrities. I sat and watched his game rapidly played, 
won, and repeated. Opening always the same, losing 
his K.'sB.'s pawn, moving out his K.'s bishop and 
knight and immediately casthng. After the games I 
entered into conversation with him, and mentioning 



PARIS SOCIETY. 221 

Maelzel as my introducer, inquired who played his 
automaton in Paris. As to Maelzel himself he said, 
" II n'a point de force, c'dtoit moi, qui jouoit ici son 
automat^." I replied, " Alors c'etoit das la Boite." 
His mumbling answer I could not hear beyond the 
word " ridicule." He declined a game with me, but 
offered for another day. 

On returninj; home I found an invitation from M. 
Julien, for his great monthly dinner to-day, at which 
I should meet the chief literati of Paris, and some 
strangers of note. Immediately accepting, I went 
accordingly, and in the great reception rooms met; 
my host and his rapidly assembling guests. Among, 
them several of the Academicians, Girard the pres- 
ident, and my pugnacious friend, M. St. Hilaire, who 
seemed somewhat ashamed of his attack on Cuivier.. 
Passing in to the salle a manger, as most of the guests 
did before dinner, I found it formally arranged with 
a card at every plate for perhaps sixty ; our host 
at the centre of the long line, where he pointed out 
to me my place, shifting my card so as to place me- 
next to himself. While standing there waiting 
the summons, a free-spoken Englishman appi*oached, 
changed the cards back again, with a " Hallo ! who 
did this ? " I observed it was done by M. Julien 
himself in compliment to an American stranger. 
" Beg pardon," said he ; "I yield ; but called on as I 
am to speak under some perplexity, it would be very 
convenient to me to sit next the Chair." I then 
found that he was the celebrated " Silk Buckingham," 
just returned from his exile in the East, and looked to^ 



222 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

as one of the great apostles of " Libert^, Egalite, et 
Fraternity," magical words, at the present time, 
throughout France and especially in Paris. His 
speech, or rather narrative of what he saw in the 
East, half French, half English, was still very effect- 
ive. As he passed through its once rich and verdant 
plains, and saw all now waste and worthless, he asked 
of himself, What had worked that change ? Had 
the skies withheld their influences, the earth its pro- 
ductive power, etc., etc. No ! Nor heaven nor earth, 
but man, — man has sunk. He has lost " Libert^." 
At this word every tongue was loosed. " Libert^ ! 
Libert^ ! " resounded through the hall. Buckingham's 
plan, for he had one, was to organize an expedition, 
benevolent in name, for rejuvenating the East, but 
political in its influences, tending to strengthen French 
influence in India, and give a blow to the English 
East India Company, who had sent him out of the 
country. With Buckingham I had much interesting 
talk — an innovator in education as well as govern- 
ment. His son, jvist grown up, was with him, trained 
in a school of self-government ; the scholars the leg- 
islators, judge, and jury, with a written code, and 
willing submission to it ; and this, according to his ac- 
count, working well, turning out both fair scholars 
and true gentlemen. Such was our dinner, the most 
spirited and diversified I ever was at. Politicians 
spoke, poets recited, inventors unfolded their im- 
provements, and invitations were given and accepted 
for new scenes of interest. At ten o'clock the dinner 
ended, and the " chiefs'" of the party adjourned to at- 



PARIS SOCIETY. 223 

tend the levSe of the Marquis de Lafayette, the 
head of the mihtary power of France, and at present 
more the sovereign than Louis Philippe himself. It 
was a splendid reception. Not French military men 
alone were there, but those from other lands looking 
to France for example or aid. Among the marked 
figures was a noble looking young Pole in his national 
garb, now proscribed in Poland : a splendid dress, 
betokening rank ; a glittering diamond in massive 
setting worn on his right thumb, with a sad though 
dignified air, speaking to none, though observed by 
all, and unknown to all with whom I conversed ; a 
spectral image of their heroic past, and intended 
perhaps to awaken French enthusiasm for its resto- 
ration. 

Thursday^ l^th. — As I returned into town I re- 
membered my chess engagement and drove to the 
Cafe de la R^gence. My friend the Jew was not 
there, but I soon had pointed out to me Professor 
Boncone. On inquiring of what he was professor, I 
was told of chess ; that instruction in it was his busi- 
ness and living, and that he was the first player in 
Paris. I accordingly took my station by him, and 
subsequently played with him two games, both of 
which I lost. He stated that there was one abler than 
himself, though not now in Paris, — M. Labourdon- 
nais ; that the old Jew was named Alexander, a good 
player, but beginning to break ; and that he himself 
had played the Automaton for a long time and never 
been beaten, though he said an equal player would 
have beaten him from the distraction caused by the 



224 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

mechanism. I observed to him, " You were not in 
the box then ? He answered, " Others less bound by 
honor may tell you ; I cannot. In France it is not 
much of a secret, but in your country I suppose it is 
otherwise." 

Saturday Evening. — Received a note from Gen- 
eral Lafayette as I was going out, proposing to in- 
troduce me at the palace to-morrow evening. Drove 
to the Due de Broglie's, who was at the Council, and 
the duchess out. The ministers have an anxious time 
of it. The people and the government are opposed 
in relation to the fate of Polignac and the ex-minis- 
ters, — the government anxious to save them, the 
mob of Paris prepared to rise en masse and murder 
them if ministers take a step for their safety. Nor 
the mob only ; one hundred and eighty thousand men 
of the National Guards have given notice that they 
cannot be depended upon if the late ministry be al- 
lowed to escape. In this emergency the Chambers, 
afraid to pass the bill for the abolition of the death 
punishment, have thrown the responsibility upon the 
king ; the ministry dare not act, and throw it back 
again ; so that even Lafayette acknowledges there is 
no chance of escape for these unfortunate men ; at 
least, for Polignac and Peyronnet, whose heads must 
answer for the blood of the people. 

Sunday Evening. — Just returned from my visit to 
the Palais Royal, where I was received in what we 
should call a cordial manner. Lafayette commands 
everywhere a homage which seems to know no 
bounds. The moment he was recognized as we de- 



PARIS SOCIETY. 225 

scended from the carriage, his name was echoed by 
the crowd. As we passed up through the great ves- 
tibules, officers and soldiers pressed forward to address 
him, and at the levSe he divided attentions with the 
king. As introduced by him, the king received me 
with an air of kindness, and still more, it would seem, 
as an American. The queen said to me that he al- 
ways looked back with peculiar interest to his visit to 
America. The king speaks English passably well, as 
do all his family. It is, one of them said, a family 
accomplishment. He is very like his portraits ; full, 
large features, and a kind, good-humored expression. 
The queen is tall, rather pretty, with a very amiable 
look and manner. Mademoiselle Orleans, the king's 
unmarried sister, is also very pleasing, though without 
beauty. I persuaded her to try her English, which she 
said she had forgotten, and told her she must cultivate 
it as a bond of friendship between the two countries*. 
The young princess, whom Lafayette described as both 
beautiful and agreeable, was unwell and not present.. 
The eldest son, the Duke of Orleans, a young man 
of twenty-one, is as pleasing and intelligent and mod- 
est withal, as one could meet with in any station in 
life. On Lafayette's introduction, he addressed me 
in French, which I answered in Englisli, knowing 
that he spoke it perfectly well. His education has 
been a plain, good one, and his sentiments are manly 
and liberal. France has much to hope in him. The 
appearance and manner of the whole family have a 
domestic, simple character, which, from all I have 
heard, truly belongs to them. After almost an 

15 



226 LIFE OF JOHN M^'VICKAR. 

hour's conversation, a small private door was opened, 
through which they retired ; and after some time, 
finding the king did not return, which he generally 
does, the company retired also. On reaching the 
outer door, an inferior officer of the guard, whom I 
had before noticed, again addressed Lafayette with 
some expression of attachment. Lafayette turning 
to me said, " This is the officer who refused to arrest 
Manuel." He then called and introduced him, with 
which he seemed greatly pleased, especially when I 
told him I was an American, and had heard of it 
there. 

I have just found out that my host of the other 
evening, M. Julien, is no other than the celebrated 
Julien, private secretary of Robespierre, and the insti- 
gator of half his proscriptions 

London. — Saturday Morning. — The unsettled 
state of Paris and the short time that remains to us 
before sailing has been the cause of our sudden move. 
The state of Paris, before we left, was grave and 
alarming. On Sunday night, while we were at the 
king's levee, the Palais Royal was quite in tumult ; 
the next night a mob of six or eight thousand at- 
tempted to fire the Palace of the Luxembourg, and 
were only prevented by the doors being thrown 
open, and being satisfied that the ministers were 
not there 

Wednesday. — Having promised Miss Douglas to 
drop in in the course of the evening, drove there 
about eleven, and was introduced to Campbell the 
poet, who, after some pressing, gave us a recitation 



LONDON. 227 

of part of " Julius Caesar." Campbell is a man of in- 
ferior interest to the other great poets we have met. 
He wants their simplicity as well as power. His con- 
versation, in short, is that of an ordinary man. 

Thursday. — My first visit, yesterday, was to the 
Royal Asiatic Society, to which Colonel Fitz-Clar- 
ence's name was a sufficient introduction. Here they 
paid me the compliment of getting me to designate 
four American libraries or institutions to which they 
would send their proceedings. Finding I was near 
Lord Stowell's, I stopped to leave my card, on part- 
ing, as a mark of respect and sympathy, for I had 
observed in the morning paper an expression of pub- 
lic feeling respecting the failing health of " the great 
and good Lord Stowell." On inquiry, I was told 
he saw none but his physicians, but on handing my 
card, the footman requested me to walk in till he 
should speak to his master. I complied, and was 
surprised to receive a message requesting me to see 
him. I found him still seated in his library, but un- 
able to rise from his chair ; he expressed very warmly 
his thanks for the interest I most sincerely felt, and 
his respect for our rising country. I sat near half 
an hour with him, for he seemed anxious to detain 
me. All he said was marked by kindness and a pe- 
culiar humility with regard to himself. As he told 
me, he is now eighty-five years old. 

Stopping at " Ridgway's " to return a book he had 
sent me, I found there Sir H. Parnell, just from Paris, 
where we left him collecting facts, and making him- 
self master of their system of financial accounts, 



228 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

which is infinitely better, he tells me, than the Eng- 
lish. This book-store is the lounging-room of the 
reading members of Parliament, and the political 
pamphlets of the day cover the tables. 

Being in the city to-day, I stopped at the India 
House, to pay a visit to Mill, the economist. I here 
made the acquaintance of Dr. Husefield, the libra- 
rian, and visited the immense establishment. Dr. 
Husefield is an American who went out to Batavia 
thirty yeai's ago, became eminent in the natural his- 
tory of Java, and is now surrounded by his own 
labors in the museum of the India House, of which 
he is the chief librarian. 

I forgot to mention, yesterday, the old Countess 
of Cork, whom we met first at the rooms of Sir Rob- 
ert Inglis, and afterward, in the evening, at those of 
Miss Douglas. She is, I believe, the last remnant of 
the Johnsonian circle, Lord Stowell excepted. She is 
the Miss M. recorded in Boswell's life, to whom John- 
son applied the phrase of " Pretty fool." Pretty she 
might have been, but fool she certainly never was. 
She has talent even now, and at the age of eighty-five 
exercises considerable influence. Another incident 
crosses my mind, which I forgot. On Tuesday last, 
returning through Downing Street, where I had been 
calling on Mr. Herries, I met the Duke of Wellington 
with his groom behind him, galloping along in rather a 

hurried style. Turning into Lord 's, he jumped 

from his horse, but instead of entering the house, 
brushed hastily past me as I came up, and open- 
ing a small iron gate descended by a back way to 



LONDON. 229 

another street. The next day the " Times " ex- 
plained it. On leaving the House of Lords he had 
been hooted and assailed with missiles, and was in full 
retreat when I saw him. Several arrests were made 
in consequence. 

Just returned from a little party at Mr. Senior's. 
They certainly understand the rational enjoyment of 
life better here than with us. Ladies are not ex- 
cluded ; on the contrary no good society exists with- 
out them ; the young do not rule ; and literature 
forms more the topic of conversation 

After a busy morning, went to the House ; while 
there received a message that the chancellor, Lord 
Lyndhurst, requested to see me at the wool-sack. 
This was rather awkward, as this official seat is in 
the centre of the House of Lords, and I was not 
sorry that business soon interrupted us. So I waited 
till he retired to his room, where I sat some time 
with him. He gave me unlimited orders for any 
papers or reports I desired, and begged me to write 
to him direct for any I might hereafter want. He 
proffered me admission within the bar on Tuesday 
next, when the king opens Parliament, which un- 
fortunately I cannot take advantage of. Talking of 
the approaching session, which they expect to be a 
stormy one, he said, " These levelers would be for 
taking the wig off my very head ;" to which I replied, 
" There were times when a man might count himself 
well off in losing only his wig." This brought on 
much pleasant conversation. Lord Lyndhurst is 
something of a humorist, and when on the wool- 



230 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

sack looks always as if he was laughing in his 
sleeve. .... 

The " Quarterly Review " has greatly risen un- 
der Lockhart, who is very independent. In the 
last number, the article on " Babbage " was too lib- 
eral for the government. It was shown at the Coun- 
cil to the duke, the day before publication. He 
found fault with it and sent for Crocker, who threw 
the responsibility on Murray. Murray was sent for 
and threw it on Lockhart ; but Lockhart, when ap- 
plied to, refused to alter. The " Edinburgh Review," 
under Napier, has fallen very low. 

Saturday Night, October 30, 1830. — I close this 
day my account with London. Spent the day in ar- 
ranging and collecting. On returning home, found 
that Mr. Winslow had been there from Lord Lynd- 
hurst, with an order of admission to the House of 
Lords at the opening of Parliament by the king, on 
Tuesday. It is quite a disappointment to give it up, 
but so it must be, and so farewell London, England, 
Europe ; and now homeward. 

At Sea, good ship " Ontario." — November 8. — 
Two days' sail from the channel. We have changed 
the scene. I know nothing that makes such a 
sudden one, as that from the world of a great city to 
the waste of waters ; it is like another state of exist- 
ence. Our last day, Sunday, in London, was chiefly 
given, as was right, to thankful recollections, and I 
trust not unfruitful resolutions. We had too many 
kind friends, however, to be altogether alone. I had 
promised to breakfast with my new friends, the Vil- 



RETURN TO AMERICA. 231 

liers, and there met Wilmot Horton, Mr. Hume, of 
the Foreign Office, Mr. M'Culloch, and Mr. Senior. 
All unite in the critical state of England, and espe- 
cially London, where they apprehend some sudden 
outbreak. Wilmot Horton rises upon me in talent. 
He read to us a " Jeu d'esprit " of his, on the duke, 
" What is the Captain about ? " a piece of great hu- 
mor. Such English society is of a higher tone than 
I have seen in any other country. The knowledge, 
talent, and conversational powers realize all I ever 
imagined of the society of clever men. 

Many crowded to bid us farewell at the last mo- 
ment, and at seven we joined the mail coach, of 
which we had taken the inside. Rode all night very 
comfortably, and reached the Quebec Hotel, Ports- 
mouth, a little after eight. The captain joined us 
after breakfast and arranged our going on board, and 
about one we set foot again on the deck of our gal- 
lant ship, while it seemed like a dream, all our wan- 
dei'ings, from the time we left it. 

Friday, November 12. — As we have a little calm 
weather to-day, I take my pen again. On Wednes- 
day evening just at dark, in the midst of a heavy 
squall, there was a cry that the elephant, which was 
our fellow-passenger, was out of her house. The 
captain, with great presence of mind, ordered the ship 
before the wind; and the mate, with equal courage, 
went up to the huge beast, who had wreathed her 
trunk around the chains, and crvino- " Back ! back ! " 
succeeded in getting her to retire quietly to her 
house.' .... 



232 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

The distinction between the University and Acad- 
emy of France had often puzzled me ; let me secure 
while I can my recently acquired knowledge. 

The University is head of all instruction. The 
Academy of Paris and all other academies, colleges, 
etc., are integral parts of it. But the Institute is an 
independent body, composed of savans in all depart- 
ments. It consists of four academies. 

1. The French Academy, or the Academy of 
France, originally devoted to the establishing and 
improving the French tongue. It consists of forty 
members, a president by rotation, and a perpetual 
secretary. Admission to this has been the highest 
reward to men of genius and sought after by princes. 

2. The Academy of Inscriptions. The object of 
this was to guard the purity of the language. All 
public inscriptions in whatever language fall under its 
cognizance. 

3. The Academy of Sciences. It was at its meet- 
ings that I attended. 

4. The Academy of the "Beaux Arts." It is 
under its sanction that the exhibitions of drawings, 
statues, etc., are held, having in its gift prizes for 
students of art, affording a support in Italy 

" Gulf Stream, December 12. — After lying awake 
through one of our usual tremendous gales, during a 
long, dark, and anxious night I was often cheered 
by the notes of a canary whose cage hung opposite 
to our cabin door. His cheering song was always 
loudest in the height of the tempest. This had 
often struck me before, but to-night I felt it particu- 



RETURN TO AMERICA. 233 

larly, and it suggested the following lines, which in 
listening I wrote : — 

Teach lovely songster ! teach to me 

That matin hymn of praise ; 
Which on the dark and stormy sea 

I hear thee nightly raise. 

It cheers me on my restless couch, 

It lifts my soul on high, 
It sounds above the rushing surge, 

Like music from the sky. 

Say not from thoughtless breast it springs, 

Unconscious of alarm ; 
'Tis nature's voice which upward wings 

Its trust upon His arm 

By whom the seas lift up their voice, 

And tempests sweep the shore ; 
At whose command they still their noise, 

And oceans cease to roar. 

To Him thy little voice is tuned, 

His power and love its themes : 
His power which in the tempest speaks, 

His love which through it beams. 

Hark ! yet again, those heartfelt trills ! 

It shames my coward fears ; 
With pious trust my breast it fills, 

And gives me smiles for tears. 

For how shall I, the heir of life. 

Whom Jesus died to save, 
Forget that 'mid the waters' strife 

He walks upon the wave. 

Fear not, " 'Tis I : " that word hath given 

New calm within my breast ; 
It closes earth, it opens heaven, 

It shows how faith is blest. 



234 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

Then thanks, sweet bird : thou'st taught to me 
Thy morning hymn of praise ; 

And on this dark and stormy sea, 
I'll emulate thy lays. 

And through the stormy sea of life, 

In sorrow's darkest hour, 
I'll think I hear thy matin song. 

And feel its gentle power. 



CHAPTER XV. 

BETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES: 1831. 

rriHE long and stormy voyage of the ship Ontario 
-■- was at last brought to a close by her safe arrival 
in the port of New York during the Christmas week, 
which closed the year 1830. She had been out fifty- 
eight days, and this protracted winter passage had 
caused both great suffering to those on board, and 
anxiety to expectant friends at home. But all was 
soon forgotten over the happy reunion at 8 College 
Green. Renewed health gave a zest to everything, 
and professional duties were at once resumed with 
the usual cheerful and determined zeal. In the 
matter of health, the chief object of this journey, 
we have the professor's own satisfactory report in a 
letter to one of his friends in England. 

" As you were kind enough to take an interest in 
my health, 1 am happy to assure you it is now quite 
restored. A month's ramble in Switzerland made a 
new man of me ; I know not whether by a physical 
or moral influence, but there was a kind of renewal 
of youth in that country I never felt before ; it 
seemed as if there was no care on its mountains, and 
nothing but peace in its valleys." 

Of the effect generally of this European tour, 



236 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

upon one who had left home a dispirited and some- 
what disappointed man, the tone and matter of his 
journal have given sufficient evidence. It was just 
what then was needed for the future development and 
self-education of my father's mind and character. 
Men at forty have often built, with original talent 
and superior industry, their railroad tracks, but for 
the rest of life they too often become mere drivers, 
plodding backward and forward over them. Pro- 
fessional and business life is especially prone to this, 
and needs at times to be rudely interrupted to pre- 
vent this sort of fossilization. Travel is, perhaps, 
the best mode of counteracting it, especially when, 
as Huber advised, it is made from mind to mind, and 
not merely from inn to inn. Such was this European 
tour to an extent, which, at the present day, under 
increased facilities of travel, seems almost impossible. 
And the fact that such tours and journals belong to 
the past must be my excuse, if any be needed, for 
giving to this autobiographic record of a few months 
more pages than will hereafter be given to as many 
years. 

There is, however, another and a deeper view in 
which we must regard this season of widening ex- 
perience and health-giving enjoyment. It was a 
toughening of the human fibre to bear the strain of 
coming trial and fit the tempered instrument for 
higher work. 

Almost the last news received before leaving Eu- 
rope had contained the announcement of the death 
of my father's promising young friend Griffin, who, as 



RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 237 

we have seen, had undertaken in his absence his 
chief duties in college. And now a sorrowing father 
at once called upon him to add a memoir of his 
deceased son to a volume of " Remains " which he 
had himself prepared. This " Memoir of Griffin " 
was afterwards published separately, and, at the 
request of the General Book Society of the Church, 
was placed upon its catalogue, the copyright being 
presented to the Society. 

Its concluding words open the theme and display 
the direction of mind which for the next twenty 
years was to be widened and deepened by continuous 
blows of domestic bereavement. 

" Thus closed the life of this amiable, pious, and 
talented young man. The aged cumberer of the earth 
is left, while the youthful Christian warrior is taken 
away, just as he is buckling on his armor for the 
battle. Yet thus it is that reason is ever baffled 
when it seeks to enter into the deep counsels of God, 
and it is perhaps for this very reason, to teach man 
humility and the nothingness of himself, and all 
things human, that death is permitted so often to 
snatch his victims out of the very instruments which 
God seems to have prepared for usefulness on earth. 
The shock given to the mind by one such breach 
upon the hopes and order of nature, does more to 
break down the barriers of worldly confidence, to 
arouse the young to reflection, and the thoughtless 
of every age to watchfulness, than a thousand re- 
movals in the ordinary course of mortality. But it 
teaches yet better things ; even the heathen in his 



238 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

blindness could saj, ' Whom the gods love, die 
young.' And cannot the Christian see in their early 
removal a new proof of that better paradise of God 
to which they are translated, and where preparations 
for virtuous usefulness, fruitless as to this world, find 
at once their exercise and their reward ? " 

Death, with the exception of that of an infant of 
a few days, had not yet entered the circle of Pro- 
fessor McVickar's family. Nearly twenty-two years 
of married life had passed. Father and mother, five 
girls and three boys, and the great aunt, whose diary 
has and will still aid us in this life picture, made up 
the mystic and still unbroken circle of home. That 
it was a bright and cheerful one may be gathered 
from the fond way in which all clung to the old Hyde 
Park traditions, and that there was no lack of Job- 
like thankfulness we may assume from what we know 
of the older members. 

Miss Bard thus concludes her diary for 1830 : — 
" I close these pages with the safe arrival of our be- 
loved family on Tuesday evening, after a stormy pas- 
sage of fifty-eight days. When I reflect on all the 
mercies that have accompanied them during the past 
eight months, — in safety, health, pleasure, and im- 
provement, returning to their happy children and 
family all in health, with numerous friends rejoicing 
to welcome them home — M^hat gratitude, what praise 
can be adequate to such great goodness. My heart, 
alas ! is not large enough for all I wish to feel. O 
my God ! increase my love, duty, and devotion, that 
I may never, never forget thy loving-kindness and 
mercies towards us." 



RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 239 

Two months after this date, the budding flower 
and ornament of the family, Anna, the eldest daugh- 
ter, just entering her twenty -first year, and fresh 
from the exciting pleasures of her foreign tour, was 
struck down with illness, and in a few days fell 
asleep to this earth and its fleeting interests. If 
artist and friends were not extremely partial, she 
must have had rare beauty, a loving spirit, and high 
accomplishments. A letter from her father to one 
of her attached young friends gives us many partic- 
ulars, but I quote only enough to show the character 
of his sorrow, and the practical nature of his hopes, 
for both were destined to gather and strengthen as 
his life advanced. 

" Thus far may I say, this visitation has been 
blessed to us, and our hearts have been less filled 
with sorrow than with gratitude for the countless 

mercies which pi'eceded and accompanied it 

When I reflect, besides, that a peaceful and Christian 
death is the most we can pray for at the end even 
of the longest life, I can almost feel thankful that 
our dear child has not only escaped all that she might 
have endured, but that we have witnessed her attain- 
ment of all we could pray for her. For when we 
look to her life, it was one of innocent and peaceful 
enjoyment, with a deep sense of religion. The last 
year of her short life was, as it ought to be, the 
happiest and most improving. Travel enlarged her 
powers, widened her observations, deepened her re- 
flections, and refined both her heart and mind by in- 
tercourse with the wise and good. 



240 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

" I thank God I feel that confidence in the bless- 
edness of that world to which she has gone that I 
would not exchange my dead daughter for any living 
one, but those I have. And instead of feeling as if 
any pains in her education were now lost, I feel, on 
the contrary, as if not only every virtue she acquired, 
but every talent and accomplishment to which she 
was trained, were now called into higher exercise. I 
know not what more life can do for us than cultivate 
our understandings and purify and elevate our af- 
fections. The life that has done that, is long enough. 
'%■ To that period our dear Anna had attained ; and I can 

call her blessed that she was taken away before age, 
sorrow, and the world had time to darken or blight 
the fair prospect." 

With such feelings, bereavement and sorrow 
tended to strengthen rather than weaken resolution. 
The following, from a letter of this year to Miss 
Bard, shows how fully time and thought were now 
given to his work : — 

" The college goes on much as usual. The presi- 
dent courteous as ever, and Professor cross as 

ever, but neither much affect me. I have full and 
satisfactory duties of my own, partly in and partly 
out of college. In college, my most agreeable is my 
new one, the course of Evidences I have undertaken 
with the senior class. And so agreeable are all my 
college duties, that neither a cross word nor a dis- 
satisfied feeling have arisen from them since the term 
began. My external duties are voluntary. I have 
undertaken to preach a sermon in our principal 



RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 241 

churches at the request of the bishop for the greatest 
cause our Church can urge, the Theological Seminary. 
I have been invited, also, to deliver a course of lec- 
tures on Moral Science, before the Young Men's As- 
sociation. The o;rammar school of the college takes 
up my time more and more every day, and may be- 
come my hobby ; the " Churchman " also calls me its 
debtor from time to time, for a communication." . . . 

" Bishop White has been in the city, and as he 
leaned upon my arm, walking to church the other 
day, I asked him of his knowledge as to General 
Washington's religious character, but there was little 
to tell beyond respect and decorum. He never was 
a communicant, though his wife was." 

The summer vacation of this year was spent in 
travelling through eastern Pennsylvania. Mrs. Mc- 
Vickar's failing health suggested an entire change of 
air and scene, and it was thought that the proposed 
trip would be beneficial. But it was soon found that 
the comfort of American travel in those days, even 
as is still the case over unfrequented routes, was little 
short of misery. The great Pennsylvania wagon,, 
with canvas top, forced to accommodate the whole- 
party of ten, over roads which from the account must 
have been dreadful, with the usual accompaniment 
of summer heat and dust, seems fully to justify the 
concluding remarks of Miss Bard, in her journal : 
" To the young and gay-hearted this journey has ex- 
cited much interest and admiration, but to my feelings 
it has been totally adverse, and from the day we left 

16 



242 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Nazareth it has been a scene of fatigue, alarm, and 
dismay." 

At Wilkesbarre, Mrs. McVickar was taken quite ill, 
and it was four weeks before they could leave the 
place and move homeward. This must have sharp- 
ened the memory of the late loss, thus touchingly 
referred to in the same journal: "But oh! how 
does every beauty in nature, as art, recall the beloved 
object who used to be our constant companion, and 
whose pure, delicate taste and observations doubled 
all our pleasures. When her father now reads some 
noble or touching lines in her favorite Southey or 
Wordsworth, I think I hear the sound of her sweet 
voice, as she used to recite the parts she most ad- 
mired." And yet, in spite of all this, childish mem- 
ory of sports that summer in which the father was 
never absent, and childish records, filling many copy- 
books, with the proceedings of a mock-heroic society, 
of which he was the founder and animating spirit, 
show how wonderful must have been the power of 
self-control, and how full the realization of a parent's 
duty in his sad and foreboding heart. When we 
remember, too, that the subject of this memoir had 
by nature a nervous and anxious temperament, we 
see here evidences of character which may not im- 
properly be called heroic, though he would have been 
the last ever to imagine that he was playing the role 
of the hero. It was simply that with him the greater 
duty was never an excuse for the neglect of the 
lesser. 

Term time brought with it, this year, its usual 



RETURN TO COLLEGE ^DUTIES. 243 

college duties, much increased by voluntary addi- 
tions in the enlargement of the course. The two 
following notes from well-known names at Washing- 
ton, show, however, that there were wider thoughts 
as well as a widening reputation. 

WaIhington, March 3, 1832. 
Dear Sir, — I beg to make you my thanks for 
your letter of the 28th ult., received yesterday, in- 
closing a proposition for a new banking company. I 
should entertain great respect for any system proceed- 
ing from your deliberate research and examination, 
and receiving the approbation of yourself and the in- 
telligent men around you. 

I will take the first leisure moment to investigate 
the present proposition, and may correspond with you 
more at large. 

Meantime, I am, dear sir. 

With great respect, 

Your obedient servant, 

Louis McLane. 

To Rev. John McVickar, etc., etc. 

Washington, May 4, 1832. 
My dear Sir, — I inclose you many questions,^ 
submitted to Mr. Biddle, which he will probably an- 
swer before the close of this session. I am permitted 
by the committee to submit them also to other gen- 
tlemen, and I know of no one who understands the 
subject better than you do. You will oblige me, at 
your leisure, by looking them over, and making such 
1 Respecting a National Banking System. 



244 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR 

suggestions as you may think proper, or answering 
such of the questions as you may appropriately do. 
I am, with great respect and esteem, 
Your obedient servant, 

C. C. Cambreleng. 
Eev. John McVickar. 

To some, letters like the above, addressed to one 
who had upon him the vows of Holy Orders, may 
seem to suggest over-attention to what are called 
worldly subjects. But I question whether the ex- 
perience of my father's life will justify any such in- 
ference. Rather did his wide range of thought give 
to him what appears now almost as if it had been 
prophetic power in dealing with all practical questions 
of the Church, as they arose. In the sermon preached 
at the bishop's request, at this time, in the New York 
churches, in behalf of the general seminary, we find 
this exemplified. 

His subject, " The Signs of the Times," as demand- 
ing a learned clergy, is one easier estimated to-day 
than it was forty years ago ; yet the true bearing of 
science on religion, could hardly be better stated 
under the advantages of our present vastly increased 
light, than in the following lines : — 

" The last sig-n of our times is one that makes the 
learning of the clergy not only a sacred duty but a 
glorious privilege. It' is an age of the fulfill- 
ment OF PROPHECY. Science is, step by step, as I 
may say, Christianizing itself, turning into arguments 
for our faith those very physical phenomena which it 



RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 245 

once laid as stumbling-blocks in our path. The infi- 
delity which science planted, science with its own hand 

now roots up So marked, indeed, is this 

sign of our times as to have already called forth the 
conjecture of reflecting minds, that to centuries, as to 
individuals, may belong each its appointed task ; and 
that the peculiar task and duty of that in which we 
live, will be to Christianize science by identifying its 
results with the truths of revelation. Noble and 
cheering prospect ! True it is, that we can here pick 
up, but, as it were, among the ruins of the temple, 
piece by piece, scattered fragments of that divine 
philosophy which once made all nature a glorious 
mirror of the power, the presence, and the mercy of 
God. But still who knows how near we may arrive, 
or how much may be effected, by uniting learning 
with piety, in the education of our clergy. For, if 
to human endeavor be destined so glorious a reward, 
to whom belono-s that honor before the Christian 

o 

ministry ? " 

Or see how the banker and economist comes out 
in the following, to teach our Church a lesson she has 
been so slow to learn : — 

" Look, too, at its funds ; do they correspond with 
the wealth and liberality which unquestionably exists 
among us ? Can Churchmen be aware that this un- 
fed mother of their children is consuming, I may say, 
literally, her own heart's blood in their support ? Yet 
such is the fact. At the rate of near $1,500 a year 
is its productive capital annually decreasing, through 
its necessary though most economical expenditure. 



246 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Means of relief, it is true, it has in prospect ; but, 
though ample in name, in reality they are unavailing. 
Exposed, besides, to all the uncertainties which attend 
future contingencies, and therefore not to be relied on 
by prudent men ; above all in a case of such present 
emergency. What, too, are they in a question of our 
duty ? When our starving children ask bread, shall 
we give them what is colder than a stone ? the fair 
sight of some distant crop which other hands have 
sown for their future support. Or even if such funds 
could be anticipated, would it not be a shame in us, 
as Churchmen, thus prematurely to exhaust a foun- 
tain, which, rightly guarded, will one day send forth 
a perennial stream ; and tenfold shame, as men and 
Christians, thus to add meanness to sacrilege, to rob 
the treasures of the dead in order that we may throw 
off our own responsibilities on a pious liberality 
which has now gone to its reward ? " 

These words are but a sample of what was con- 
stantly heard from his lips, at the meetings of the 
many Church societies to which he belonged, when- 
ever financial matters came up for discussion. He 
would never give his sanction to anything like a shift- 
less policy in what concerned money, and if he had 
enemies, as all strong-minded men have, more or less, 
they were generally those who felt themselves ag- 
grieved at the unsparing manner in which he exposed 
their financial fallacies, and opposed their temporizing 
measures. 

Professor McVickar's value to the Church in the 
Diocese of New York, was, in this respect, a weighty 



RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 247 

one. All societies, having funds, seemed glad to have 
him as a trustee, and the following list, in his own 
handwriting, made by request, in 1864, of itself sug- 
gests a valuable life : — 

"In 1820, I was elected by Convention a member 
of the Missionary Committee of the diocese, and, as 
secretary, had its affairs mainly on my hands, and 
during Bishop Hobart's absence in Europe, obtained 
aid from the general government for carrying on our 
Indian mission and school. 

" In 1826, on the establishment of the General 
Theological Seminary, I was elected one of its trus- 
tees, and a member of its standing committee, a 
position I still hold. 

"In , a vice-president of the New York Bible 

and Common Prayer Book Society, and have so con- 
tinued. 

" In , a vice-president of the Tract Society, 

and chairman of its committee for selection. 

" In 1840, a vice-president of the City Mission 
Society ; was also among its founders, and for many 
years its presiding officer. 

" In , a trustee and soon superintendent of the 

Society for Promoting Religion and Learning. 

" In 1828, a trustee of Trinity School ; for many 
years official visitor of the school, and chairman of 
the school committee ever since. 

" Of the New York Athenaeum, president, for 
some years, till its consolidation with the ' Society 
Library,' in 1836." 

To this, to make it complete, must be added the 



248 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

very honorable and important position of a member 
of the Standing Committee of the Diocese of New 
York, from 1834 to 1868, being its president for the 
last five years, and also that of trustee of St. Stephen's 
College, Annandale, from its foundation. 

This represents many years of service in many 
varied positions, none of which were allowed to be sin- 
ecures. They were the side-streams of a noble river, 
pouring their fresh waters and varied interests into 
the main current of an academic and literary life, pre- 
venting alike either one-sidedness or stagnation. And 
above and around all rose the controlling influence 
of clear religious principle. As he writes at about 
this date, in concluding a review on Chalmers, — 

'" Christianity, truly preached, is to us as to the 
inhabitants of Great Britain, the only rock of safety, 
— to them against the outbreakings of a starving mul- 
titude ; to us against the abuse of civil privileges. 
Centuries may pass over us before scantiness of food 
shall be the provocation to rapine ; but our own age 
will not probably pass without our feeling that the 
virtue of the people is our only political security, and 
the institutions of Christianity our only sufficient safe- 
guard for the existence of that virtue." 

It is not necessary to call this prophecy ; it is suffi- 
cient that we recognize it as that fruit of wisdom 
which the grafted tree of religious learning ever bears. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

LETTERS : 1832. 

THE death of Sir Walter Scott about this time 
stirred deeply the heart of New York, as well 
as of all the English-speaking world. Public meet- 
ings were held, resolutions adopted, subscriptions 
toward a monument here, or in Edinburgh, started, 
and the delivery of a public tribute to his memory 
determined upon. Seventy names, such as the old 
New Yorker loves now to recall, commencing with 
David Hadden and followed by such as James G. 
King, James K. Paulding, Washington Irving, Robert 
Halliday, and Jonathan Goodhue, signed a call for a 
public meeting at the Merchants' Exchange, Wall 
Street, on the 19th of November, 1832, " to take into 
consideration the best means of uniting with the com- 
mittees in Scotland, in a tribute of respect to the 
memory of the Great Minstrel of the North." 
One of the results of this meeting was the folloAving 
note to Professor McVickar : — 

New York, November 29, 1832. 

Reverend and dear Sir, — At a meeting of our 
fellow-citizens we have been authorized to adopt, 
measures to procure an eulogium to be pronounced 



250 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

upon the late Sir Walter Scott as a suitable tribute 
to the memory of that distinguished man, whose works 
have delighted and instructed both hemispheres, and 
whose death both hemispheres deplore. A 

In requesting you to undertake this grateful and 
interesting duty, we have the honor to subscribe our- 
selves, reverend ana dear sir. 

Your friends and obedient servants, 

Jonathan M. Wainwright, 
Robert Halliday, 

W. A. DUER. 
The Eet. John McVickak. 

This request was, with some hesitation, acceded to, 
and the " Tribute to the Memory of Sir Walter 
Scott," afterwards published by request, was delivered 
early in December, before, what was then a compara- 
tive possibility, the intelligent audience of New York. 
It was a high-toned and heartfelt eulogium, and de- 
served the general approbation with which it was 
received. The romantic school in English writing 
was then both new and popular. Scott was its ideal, 
and we can well understand how sympathetic, to an 
audience perfectly familiar with his works, would be 
the suggestive reminders of this eulogium. 

From many notes respecting it I select the follow- 
ing : — 

Stockbeidgb, March 2, 1833. 

My dear Sir, — On my return from Boston I 
found the " Tribute to the Memory of Sir Walter 
Scott " awaiting me, and I am unwilling to receive, 



LETTERS. 251 

Without acknowledgment, so high a gratification as its 
perusal has furnished me. Permit me first, however? 
to thank you for an attention which is the more 
agreeable, as it recognizes on your part an acquaint- 
ance I am happy to perpetuate ; to this 1 must be 
allowed to add my admiration of the beauty, truth, 
and eloquence of the production itself. If to few in 
oiu' country has been afforded the great privilege of 
seeing and personally knowing Sir Walter Scott, we 
must at least rejoice that such a distinction has been 
awarded to one so capable as the writer of appreciat- 
ing justly his character and genius, and of transmit- 
ting his impressions to others. 

With best wishes for the health of Mrs. McVickar 
and your family, beheve me, 

My dear sir, 
Very respectfully, your obliged, 

Susan A. L. Sedgwick. 
Ebv. John McVickar. 

The following from Mrs. Grant, of Laggan, shows 
that it met with as much favor on the other as on 
this side of the Atlantic, and that, too, from those 
who knew Scott best : — 

Rev. dear Sir, — It is not easy for me to say how 
much you have gratified — I may well say delighted 
me with the beautiful garland you have hung on the 
tomb of him whom we all delighted to honor. The 
mere combination of genius so splendid, with virtue 
so modest, so consistent, and a temper so sweetly 



252 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

benevolent, seemed to touch the hardest hearts with 
a kind of hallowed influence. Never surely was a 
person so much admired, so little, if at all, envied. 
To me he was not merely a warm friend but a bene- 
factor, ever ready to promote my interests and ad- 
vantages in every possible way. I felt his loss more 
deeply than in a person drawing so near the verge of 
time is perhaps excusable. But Sir Walter's death 
in one sense made me young again, that is, I felt a 
renewal of that keen anguish which belongs more to 
the untamed feelings of youth than to the subdued 

state of a mind inured to suffering 

The facility with which this rich intellect poured 
forth the profusion of its fruits always appeared 
to me a proof that he felt a lively pleasure in com- 
position such as a bird does in singing. James Bal- 
lantyne, his confidential friend, who, within a few 
months, has followed him to the grave, has told me 
that, in instances which he mentioned, his sense of 
the ludicrous was such that, in writing, he was 
obliged to lay down his pen and indulge in a hearty 
laugh. He gathered thoughts and images from 
quarters where no one else would have looked for 
them. What Pope says of some one by way of re- 
proach, was true of him. He indeed — 

" FiUed his head, 
With all such reading as was never read ; " 

but the gold that he extracted from this lead showed 
no common chemic powers. There was and is some- 
thing too near idolatry in the feelings with which I 
think of this happy specimen of humanity in its finest 



LETTERS. 253 

from. Yet I do not expatiate in this way except to 
those of whose full sympathy I am assured. I hope, 
dear sir, you will consider it a compliment when I 
assure you I think I could not have written so fully 
and freely to another, and I am not afraid of tiring 
you. It is pleasant to think of the effect such un- 
clouded goodness had on Byron in all his splendid 
wretchedness. He could not hear him named with- 
out emotion, his eyes filled, and his color changing. 
His distrust in human virtue was to him a sense of 
misery. He used to say a few more like Walter 
Scott would have reconciled him to his fellow-men. 

Your eulogium of our illustrious friend gave much 
pleasure, not to say pride, to many of his admirers. 
It is to be printed at the end of the edition of the 
works now publishing. 

It is time to subscribe myself, dear sir, with much 
esteem and regard, 

Yours truly, 

Anne Grant. 

To appreciate Mrs. Grant's beautiful allusion to 
the effect of Sir Walter's death in renewing her 
youth, it must be remembered that she, herself, was 
long past eighty, though her large pages of fine and 
beautiful calligraphy would seem to pronounce her as 
young as she felt. 

At the close of the " eulogimn," my father sug- 
gested the proposition from America of an inter- 
national copyright as the truest monument which 



254 LIFE OF JOHN MWICKAR. 

Americans could erect to the memory of Scott. 
This created considerable attention at the time. It 
was brought before Congress, and the British Consul 
at Boston, Mr. George Manners, corresponded with 
the author. Judge Storj, and others respecting it ; 
but it seems to have come to nothing. The mother 
country had taught her independent and growing 
child a selfish policy in other matters, and the lesson 
was now turned against herself. Though the time 
may come, an international copyright was not then, 
nor would it be now, of pecuniar}^ advantage to 
this country ; and hence courtesy, honorable feeling, 
and the individual interests of authors must go for 
nothing. 

The abuse by travellers of the opportunities granted 
through social intercourse, in pandering to the public 
curiosity respecting great men, was one "with which 
my father had no sympathy. He not only avoided 
it, but actually dreaded the slightest imputation. In 
a letter to Lockhart, Sir Walter's son-in-law, accom- 
panying a copy of the eulogium, he says : — 

" Having been recently called upon to express my 
own feelings and those of my fellow- citizens on the 
death of Sir Walter Scott, I owe it you on every 
account to remit a copy of what I have said, more 
especially as I was naturally led to speak in it of 
that opportunity of personal intercourse enjoyed by 
myself and family during our short residence at 
Abbotsford in the June of 1830. I do this in order 
that you may be aware of all I have said pubhcly 
on that subject. I regarded the invitation to Abbots- 



LETTERS. 255 

ford at the time as an honor to which I had no 
sufficient claim, and felt it consequently as a most 
sacred obligation not to abuse the opportunity it 
might afford to the gratification of idle curiosity in 
myself or others. I therefore abstained Avhile there 
from the use of my pen, even in the trifling journal 
I kept for the gratification of my children at home, 
though I could not deny myself or them the pleasure 
of my after recollections ; but to their eyes it has 
been almost strictly confined, until the late melan- 
choly event induced me to employ it in the ' manner 
you see." 

On the 21st of April of this year, after twenty- 
four years of married life, my mother died, leaving 
seven children. As a man leaning upon a staff that 
had well supported him, when that staff breaks, 
either falls, or seeks another, or straightens himself 
up into independent strength, so was it with my 
father in this great loss and sorrow of his life. And 
in a moment it would seem that the resolution was 
formed. One had fallen in the great copartnership 
of life, and the other without hesitation, in hopes of 
reunion, takes up and determines to bear for life, be 
it long or short, the double burden. Nor is this 
merely matter of conjecture. In the prime of life, — 
he was then forty-five, — handsome, as his portrait 
by Inman shows, with conversational powers which, 
even in that day of a brilliant New York society, 
were noted, and which he never lost, he thus writes 
to his eldest daughter describing the monument 
which he had erected to her mother, and the inscrip- 
tion which embodied his deliberate resolve : — 



256 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

" The words inscribed are few, and have reference 
only to myself, which my dear children must pardon. 
The inscription is as follows, the word ' parents ' 
being above : — 

ELIZA BARD MCVICKAR, 

Born 12 Octobek, 1787, 

Died 27 April, 1833. 

IN THE christian's REST 

SHE NOW AWAITS ONE 

YET STRUGGLING 

WITH A christian's HOPE. 

" It occupies but one half the side, the other being 
reserved for your dear father when God shall see fit 
to call him to join her, I trust, in those blessed man- 
sions where there is no parting, and where we shall 
all, through a Saviour's merits, be reunited." 

This monument is a plain, solid block of white 
marble, on the top of which a marble cross now 
stands. It occupies the centre of a square plot in the 
rural church-yard which my father's own hands had 
laid out, when, as a young deacon, he first took 
charge of the church which his father-in-law had 
built for him at Hyde Park, on the banks of the 
Hudson River. ^ 

My mother's character, however beautiful and 
attractive, does not concern the thread of that life 
which I am endeavoring now to trace, but the love 
my father bore her does, for it remained within him 
to the last, a strong motive power. I shall, therefore, 
close this subject with two extracts, one from a letter 



LETTERS. 257 

written for all bis children four weeks after his loss, 
the other from one written to Miss Bard some months 
later. 

" If then, my dear children, you loved your 
mother, follow her example. Let religion give 
strength to your character, consistency to your con- 
duct, and cheerfulness to all your futiu'e prospects. 
Let benevolence be in all your plans, and energy in 
all you execute ; fear neither difficulties, nor dan- 
ger, nor self-denial in the path of duty ; and without 
losing sight of Providence, keep ever, as your dear 
mother did, a generous heart, a willing mind, and an 
open hand, whenever God places before you the 
means of doing good. Thus living, your reward 
shall be as hers was, love and affection without 
bound or limit, and on the bed of death that peace 
which passeth all understanding ; and above all your 
reward shall be a reunion with yom" sainted mother 
where there is no sin and no sorrow, no tears and 
no "parting. Thus prays your affectionate and be- 
reaved father." 

To Miss Baed. 
" 'Tis true there was a dear one for whom my pen 
was readier, absent from whom I counted not days 
but hours, for wherever she was seemed to me my 
only home and resting-place. Now she is gone, my 
heart is scattered wherever those are who were near 
and dear to her. Home, in its dearest sense, I have 
no longer on earth, nor expect to feel till I join her 
in that Christian's rest where she awaits me. Neither 
17 



258 LIFE OF JOHN MGVICKAR 

friend, however dear, nor child, however beloved, 
can supply the void ; it must remain till made up an 
hundredfold in a future life. Her dear likeness has 
been my greatest comfort ; I open it on my table ; I 
have her gentle face as my companion whether I 
write or read. It is the last object on which I look 
at night, and the first thing I see in the morning is 
the same sweet countenance. O, that it could 
change or speak, and sometimes I look on it till I 
almost fancy that it does. But these are dreams, and 
from them I awake when duty calls, stronger and 
more resolute. Duty, active duty, therefore, must 
be my support." 

The habit thus formed of companionship with the 
departed spirit of the loved one through a miniature, 
which except on the rarest occasions was never al- 
lowed to meet other eyes than his own, but always 
stood open at his bedside during the hours of the 
night, was kept up, probably without a single inter- 
mission, to the last, a period of thirty-seven years. 

The conscientious effort to be a mother as well as 
a father to his children was at once made, and a 
country-house purchased that very year to be their 
summer home during the three months of college 
vacation. He wisely went among friends, purchas- 
ing from his brother James his cottage and farm at 
Constableville, or Turin, as it was generally called, 
in Lewis County, New York, about three hundred 
miles northwest of the city. It was a long journey 
of three days, steamboat, canal-boat, and stage-coach, 



LETTERS. 259 

but at the end everything was such as to contribute 
to his children's happiness. There was a large circle 
of uncles, aunts, and cousins, a cool summer climate, 
a noble country bordering on the Black River and 
the region of the Adirondacks, a dairy farm, beside 
all the stimulating interests of a vacation. To these 
were added, as if for my father's special need, in this 
hour of his loneliness, a struggling Church. As he 
writes to Miss Bard shortly after the removal of his 
family, — 

" All looks well here but the Church, which from 
various reasons has sunk almost to nothing. The 
endeavor to revive it is the great duty which now 
opens upon me." 

Fortunately this was a year filled for my father 
with varied interests. Early in the summer I find 
him elected an honorary member of the Literary and 
Historical Society of Quebec, and shortly after the 
offer of the provostship of the University of Penn- 
sylvania, just vacated by Dr. DeLancey, was pressed 
upon him. This last was urged strongly in letters 
from Dr. Adrain, and Bishop H. U. Onderdonk. It 
is possible that the disappointment in the matter of 
the presidency of Columbia College may have caused 
him at first to think favorably of this opportunity 
to take the head of a rival institution in another 
State ; but if so, and I only infer it from some delay 
in giving his final answer, other considerations must 
have prevailed. Among these a strong attachment 
to his native State, city, and diocese would doubtless 
have much weight. Both in Church and State he 



260 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

was a New Yorker, and that to him was synonymous 
with liberal views, and a high progressive conserv- 
atism. This was held not comparatively and boast- 
fully, but positively and practically. As a citizen 
and a Churchman, it would, at any time, have been 
a hard trial for him to leave New York. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS : 1833-1835. 

T T will be remembered that in the journal of the 
-■- days spent at the Hospice of the St. Bernard 
mention was made of the discovery in the museums 
cabinet of a specimen of anthracite coal, found in the 
neighborhood, and of my father's efforts to arrange 
some means for burning it. In this he was but par- 
tially successful. But the subject was not allowed 
to pass from his mind, and on his return to America 
he interested a few friends, whose names deserve 
record here, — Edward Laight, William Moore, 
Frederick Prime, and Miss Douglas, to aid him in. 
sending a Nott's stove to the Hospice. This, after 
some delay and much difficulty, was accomplished:, 
and the following letters give an interesting account 
of the event : — 

St. Bernard, le 20 F€vrier, 1833. 

Tres Honorb Monsieur, — L'Hospice du St, 
Bernard conservera toujours un trds pr^cieux sou- 
venir de I'intdret que vous prenez a sa prosp^rite;, 
je puis vous assurer et vous prie de vouloir bien aussi 
assurer vos amis, qu'il n'est aucun Religieux de 
notre Congregation qui ne sente vivement les bienfaits 
que notre Hospice a re^us et va recevoir encore par 



262 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

I'offre g^n^reux que vous lui faites d'un fourneau a 
brulerl'anthracite. Get objet sera pour nous une pr^- 
cieuse ressource pour chauffer economiquement la 
maison, et un soulagement pour riiumanite soufFrante, 
car eloigne de cinq lieues (twenty-five miles) des 
bois, et vu leur rarete et la difficulte du transport, 
nous etions obliges d'en faire une stricte econoniie ; 
au lieu que I'anthracite pent etre portd sans fais — 
mais il nous manquoit le mojen de le faire bruler. 
Ce fourneau sera done un monument qui constatera 
la g^nerosite et le devouement de nos amis en Am^- 
rique, en faveur des pauvres passagers au travers des 
Hautes Alpes, par le grand St. Bernard. Ces bien- 
faits la reconnaissance les devra a ce sentiment pieux 
qui interesse si vivement les amis de I'humanit^ 
envers les malheureux. 

Votre tres humble serviteur, 

Barras, 
Chan., Reg., Clavendier de I'Hospice. 

MoNSiEUE LE Professor Macvicae. 

By what might well be called a fortunate provi- 
dence, the stove, by no means an easy one to handle, 
as those who remember the eight-foot high stoves 
of Dr. Nott in the hall-ways of the old New York 
houses will acknowledge, fell in with a scientific 
traveller of the name of Saynisch at the foot of the 
mountain. He, interesting himself at once in the 
afikir, joined company with the stove, which on such 
an errand of mercy we may well look upon as a liv- 
ing thing, and did not part company with it till it was 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 263 

set up in the Hospice and the good brothers of the 
Order had rejoiced over its genial glow. 

The following letter, coming as it did from an en- 
tire stranger, gave to all concerned in the enterprise 
a very happy feeling : — 

Hospice St. Bernard, April 26, 1833. 
My dear Sir, — It is with the greatest gratifica- 
tion and pleasure that I can communicate to you 
the fulfillment of your wishes to erect the stove 
which you had the kindness to send to the St. Ber- 
nard. In this time of the year when the snow 
reaches Lydde, four miles below St. Pierre, it was 
with the utmost difficulty for me to bring it up. Till 
Lydde it was brought on wagon ; from there I took 
six men, who brought it in pieces to the summit. 
The construction was very difficult, because several 
were broken when I opened the case. Notwith- 
standing all this I succeeded to burn the coal, which 
is more a plumbago than anthracite. Since yester- 
day the stove is in full operation, and the joy of the 
brethren has no boundary. They remember you and 
your dear family with the greatest gratitude. To- 
morrow I shall go down with the marronnier and the 
dogs, because the weather is very stormy and the 
snow enormous. 

Your most obedient servant, 

L. Saynisch. 

Professor McVickar. 

P. S. I hope you Avill excuse my good English ; 
my dictionary is 6,000 feet below. 



264 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

These letters, with a few others from M. Barras, 
appeared in the " New York American " of July 5, 
1833, accompanied by some editorial remarks from 
the editor, Charles King, but with a studious omis- 
sion, evidently at my father's request, of his own 
name. A few days afterwards appeared in the same 
sheet, the following : — 

" The fact of the discovery, by an American trav- 
eller, of a species of anthracite on Mount St. Ber- 
nard, and of the subsequent present, through , his 
instrumentality, of one of Nott's stoves to the 
brothers of the monastery, as recorded in this paper 
on Friday, has attracted much notice and inquiry. 
Among the evidences of this, we offer, without the 
permission of the writer, the following extract from a 
note addressed to us by a distinguished man of letters, 
a German, now resident among us : — 

" 'Dear Sir, — Are you at liberty to give me the 
name of the gentleman who erected so excellent a 
monument of American activity and practical sense 
on the high summit of the St. Bernard ? I should 
like to mention his name in some proper place, though 
I do not yet know where. At all events, I should 
like to know the name ; it gives me always great de- 
light to watch the pulsations of extending civilization. 
My heart glowed — not precisely like a Nott stove, 
but at least like a Roman marito — when I read the 
account of the invaluable present to the good broth- 
erhood of the Hospice. How many a traveller will 
bless the giver of this stove. Imagine a husband 
who sees his wife, nearlv dead by frost, recovering 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 265 

by this thrice blessed stove. Why, if I knew Eng- 
lish, I would make an ode on this new victory of hu- 
man intelligence : compare it to Napoleon's passing 
the Alps, and Avho would appear as the greater bene- 
factor ? ' 

" It can be no harm, though it is a liberty, that 
we should answer publicly the inquiry of our corre- 
spondent, and name Professor McVickar of Colum- 
bia College." 

The effect produced upon the minds of the occu- 
pants of that dreary abode by the happy discovery 
and practical suggestions of my father, was probably 
not the least of the benefits bestowed. The mental 
stagnation of cold and solitude combined, must have 
been a no unfrequent visitor to this cheerless abode, 
8,000 feet above the level of the sea. Anything, 
therefore, which should create universal interest 
would be a boon to its inmates, and much more if 
likely to become a panacea for their greatest ills. 
J. Fenimore Cooper, writing from Paris at this time 
to a son of Governor Jay, tells of the enthusiasm 
among the brothers at the Hospice, but does not 
sympathize as fully in their feelings as he probably 
would have done had he himself been under bonds 
to remain up in that freezing atmosphere for two or 
three years. He writes : — 

" I was at the Great St. Bernard the other day, 
and the lazy monks inquired after Dr. McVickar, 
who has quite won their hearts by sending them a 
contrivance to keep them warm. The egotists did 
nothing but talk of stoves and coal mines." 



266 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

It will not lessen the Interest of this little episode, 
though it must suggest days of deep disappointment 
at the Hospice, to hear that, after being successfully 
used for a year or two, the vein of coal gave out, 
and that they have since had to have recourse again 
to the fagots of wood, brought up on the backs of 
mules twenty-five miles, from the valley below. 

My father was at this time, and long after, deeply 
interested in the work of city missions, and was now 
chairman of the City Mission Society. Aided by 
members of his family and one or two seminary stu- 
dents, he had started a mission school at Union 
Square, a neighborhood then not unlike to the present 
approaches to Central Park. Also another at the 
dry dock on the East River, which, with the Church 
of the Epiphany that sprang from it, were, until their 
adoption by the City Mission Society, supported and 
carried on by him. Of the capabilities of this City 
Mission Society, which is still doing a noble though 
restricted work in the metropolis, he had a high esti- 
mation. It was through his Influence that it was at 
this time intrusted by the diocese with the exclusive 
charge of missionary operations in the city of New 
York. I find evidence also that he then urged both 
Trinity Parish and the Society for the Promotion 
of Religion and Learning, to recognize its official 
instrumentality, and supply funds for Increasing the 
work, and for the purchase of mission sites over the 
whole island. This broad and bold scheme of mis- 
sionary work, which would have placed the Church 
on such vantage ground as the swelling tides of in- 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 267 

creasing population rolled in around her, failed, as 
all such schemes in our Church have failed, from 
parochial jealousy arising from the want of recog- 
nized episcopal headship and a cathedral centre. 
And though his connection with the society con- 
tinued for many years, he never felt that it had been 
allowed to do its full or rightful work. 

On the 10th of June, 1834, my father was called 
upon by the students of the college to address them 
on the death of an honored and beloved fellow-stu- 
dent, William Moore De Rham. Relationship and 
close intimacy with the family made it to him an oc- 
casion of more than usual interest. The address, 
under the title, " Be ye also Ready," was published 
by request, and I feel that in rescuing from the dust 
and oblivion of the pamphlet collector's shelves the 
following words of wise and much needed advice, I 
am but doing that which will receive the thankful 
acknowledgment of most of my readers : — 

*' And do you ask how you are to be always ready, 
I answer, by the steady performance upon Christian 
principles of each daily duty as it rises before you. 
Concentrate your thoughts on the present duty what- 
ever it be. The present hour, the present moment 
is all you have of life. The past is gone, utterly, 
irretrievably ; the future is not, and to you may 
never be ; ' the present,' therefore, ' calm and wise 
dispose.' " 

" The position of the youthful student is doubtless 
one of great danger and high trial, and it is among the 
mysteries of our probationary state, why, at the age 



268 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

when resolution is weakest, passion should be found the 
strongest ; and the fiery trial of temptation appointed 
unto those who are but novices in resisting even its 
ordinary allurements. Yet thus it is ; God has so 
willed it, and our only comfort is, that where a right- 
eous ruler has sent trial He has doubtless sent pro- 
portionate help. Nor is that aid far to seek ; much 
is to be found in that ardent nature which is itself 
your betrayer ; in those warm and generous emotions 
of virtue, which, even in our corrupt nature, still char- 
acterize the heart of youth ; in a pure and generous 
ambition of excellence, at that age most easily excited; 
in a deep love of earthly parents, whose hearts would 
be broken by a child's misconduct, and their gray 
hairs brought down in sorrow to the grave ; and 
in a natural piety to a heavenly parent, which in the 
youthful breast springs up instinctively into feelings 
of love and gratitude. But among human means, 
let me urge upon you as the most practical and most 
powerful, the habits of a faithful and diligent student. 
These preoccupy the debatable ground of the hu- 
man heart, and leave no room for the lodgment of 
traitorous affections. It is the idle mind alone that 
is weak to resist allurement ; it is the vacant thought 
that allows wandering fancy to be caught with the 
unreal shows of vicious pleasure. Therefore, will the 
real student, as a general rule, ever be found to be 
the virtuous student, and the source of his danger seen 
to be not so much in the strength as in the unoccu- 
pied state of his emotions. It is the stagnant pool 
that breeds the noxious vapors, and from the listless 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 269 

hours of idleness, as from their head-waters, creep 
out the dark and deadly streams of gaming, intem- 
perance, and vicious dissipation ! If, unfortunately, 
any whom I now address are trembling on the verge 
of this precipice, let me here arouse them to a sense 
of the danger in which they stand. I would exhort 
them in the spirit-stirring language of our great dram- 
atist, — 

' Rouse up, be firm, and wanton love 
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous hold, 
And, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane. 
Be shook in air.' 

" But to him who seeks it there are higher aids 
than mere occupation of mind. Conscience speaks 
within — la buona compagnia, to borrow the thought 
of the classic poet of Italy, — 

' La buona compagnia che I'uom francheggia 
Sotto I'osbergo del sentirsi pura.' 

Or, to give it in the almost equally classic words of 
his late translator, — 

' That boon companion, who her strong breast-plate 
Buckles on him who feels no guilt within, 
And bids him on and fear not.' 

" That inward voice is to the student a voice of 
safety, for it speaks of time and talents and means of 
youthful improvement, as things to be accounted for 
in a day of righteous retribution. 

" But higher yet is your strength. Do you ask on 
what aid that youth shall rest, who, with a spirit will- 
ing, finds yet his nature weak. I answer, on that 



270 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

grace which is given in return to earnest prayer, and 
which is never withheld from the sincere and faithful 
spirit. That aid, unlike to human aid, lessens not in 
the using ; it may be wasted, but can never be 
wearied ; it may be grieved, and offended, and driven 
away, but, with a friendship as high above worldly 
friendships as heaven is above earth, it can never be 
exhausted or overtasked ; it comes into the heart at 
first, small and unregarded, as the seed of the tree 
which the birds carry to the fruitful meadow ; but 
received in a thankful soil, it grows up like that tree, 
till it shelters in its branches those winged thoughts 
of the soul, which are as the birds that brought it, 
and till its roots are so entwined with every fibre of 
the heart as to bid defiance not only to the storm c£ 
passion and the assaults of temptation, but even to 
the searching fires of persecution and martyrdom. 

" But there is one question more of deeper interest. 
How sliall he who has once fallen, return ? How shall 
the path of innocence be regained, if, through heed- 
lessness or temptation, our feet have slipped from it ? 
I answer you in the dying words of him to whom this 
debt of respect is paid : ' I have a humble trust in 
the mediation of my Redeemer ; my hope is in Jesus 
Christ.' Through Him may sin ever be pardoned ; 
through Him may grace be gained; through Him 
and the blessed Spirit may the path of repentance 
lead again to that of innocence, and that narrow path 
be more safely trodden, when the steps of youth are 
guided by a light from Heaven, and their feet guarded 
by the preparation of the gospel of peace." 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 271 

This year appeared from the press, " The Early 
Years of Bishop Hobart." The relationship between 
the Bishop and my father had been a very near one. 
Ordained by him in the first year of his episcopate, 
he had ever remained the Bishop's warm admirer, 
and soon became his intimate and attached friend. 
His loss was deeply felt, both personally and because 
of the Church ; and the importance of a faithful record 
of his life seems early to have suggested itself to my 
father's mind. In commenting, in the columns of 
♦' The Churchman," on Dr. Strachan's letter to Dr. 
Chalmers on " The Life and Character of Bishop 
Hobart," he says, " Where is the domestic monu- 
ment which some one of his many sons are bound to 
raise to his memory ; " but I do not think that he 
had then any idea of raising that monument himself. 
The first contribution toward a life of the Bishop was 
made by the Rev. J. F. Schroeder, entitled " A Me- 
morial of Bishop Hobart ; " then came a " Memoir," 
by Dr. Berrian, attached to his works ; and it may 
still be said that the life of Bishop Hobart, the most 
influential and impoi'tant life that the Church in 
America has yet know^n, remains to be written. The 
" Early " and " Professional Years," by my father, 
are but the material for such a life. 

His object in the " Early Years " was distinctly of 
this character, calling himself editor, and presenting, 
through original letters, the outlines of a character so 
true to its after development as to silence at once the 
charge of personal ambition as the motive of its un- 
tiring energy, or oflScial position as the secret of its 



272 LIFE OF JOHN MCVJCKAR. 

firm devotion to Cliurch principles, charges which 
had more than once been repeated. In the " Profes- 
sional Years," which appeared in 1836, he rose some- 
what higher in philosophic treatment, but even here 
was hampered in a way which proves the need of 
some later historian. " The subject and its events," 
he says, in his preface, " are too well known for the 
interest of biography and too recent for the freedom 
of history. It is a story, too, which can hardly, now 
at least, be told without compromitting both names 
and questions, in a way not easy to avoid reviving old 
offense or giving new." Yet how well he performed 
his delicate task friends and enemies alike testified, 
and I feel that I shall be forgiven the liberty in insert- 
ing here the following unprejudiced testimony : — 

White Plains, August, 1836. 
Reverend and dear Sir, — I cannot tell you how 
much I have been delighted in perusing your late 
work, " Professional Years of Bishop Hobart." It 
should indeed be, as I am sure it is, matter of joy to 
the Church that the character of that great man has 
at length been so ably portrayed that the more closely 
it is investigated the purer it will appear, and the 
longer it shall be contemplated the more it must be 
admired. Not having been one of the Bishop's 
warmest admirers during his life, I am happy to rank 
myself now among the number, and to add that every 
year's experience in the ministry strengthens my con 
viction of the soundness of his views and the wisdom 
of his pohcy. Robert Wm. Harris. 

Professor John McVickar. 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 273 

My father was, from the first, interested in the 
welfare of the General Theological Seminary, and 
especially of its library, which was a very inadequate 
one for an institution holding its prominent position 
as the chief nursery of the Church. He was then 
chairman of the library and building committees of the 
board of trustees, and exerted himself in every way to 
raise the sum of ten thousand dollars for the increase 
and endowment of the seminary library. Drafts and 
memorials to Trinity Pai'ish and the Socit. ty for the 
Promotion of Religion and Learning, in nis hand- 
writing, are before me, as well as the following char- 
acteristic note from Bishop Doane congratulating 
him on his finished work : — 

St. Makt'8 Paksonage, Innocents' Day, 1835. 

Reverend and dear Brother, — From my 
heart I thank God that the noble enterprise of the en- 
dowment for the seminary library is accomplished, 
chiefly, so far as human agency is concerned, by 
your persevering energy. What a noble, generous, 
most magnanimous mother of us all is Trinity Church ! 
Peace be within her walls and plenteousness within; 
her palaces ! 

G. W. Doane. 
Rev. John McVickae, D. D. 

The work, thus satisfactorily accomplished, was 
aided in an unexpected manner by his memoir of 
Bishop Hobart. Among the many friends made in 
England had been Dr. W. F. Hook, the Vicar of 

18 



274 LIFE OF JOHN MCVJCKAR. 

Leeds. To him a copy of the two volumes was sent, 
and at the same time a letter asking him to interest 
himself in the proposed library endowment. This 
was practically answered in the affirmative by the 
unexpected appearance, shortly after, of an English 
edition of the "Early and Professional Years of Ho- 
bart," with a preface of thirty pages from the pen of 
Dr. Hook himself, containing a short historic sketch 
of the American Church. There was also an an- 
nouncement that Mr. Talboys, the publisher, had 
agreed to place the whole of the profits to the credit 
of the library of the American Church Seminary. 
" It had pleased God," he said, " to bless him in the 
basket and in the store, and he should delight in thus 
evincing his gratitude by showing his devotion to the 
holy and Apostolic Church of which he was a mem- 
ber." What these profits amounted to I am not now 
able to state, but this noble act of an English pub- 
lisher deserves, what we would here give it, honor- 
able and thankful record. 

Shortly before this evidence of his interest appeared, 
Dr. Hook writes : " I feel much interested about 
your library and am ready to be employed in the good 
cause. I consider it useless to attempt a subscription 
without some definite object in view\ What I pro- 
pose, therefore, to -do is this, to raise a subscription 
among my friends for the purpose of presenting you 
with a full set of the ' Fathers,' including the ' Bene- 
dictine Edition,' which I think can be purchased for 
X350. I have mentioned my plan to my friends, 
Professor Pusey, Mr. Newman of Oriel, and Mr. 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 275 

Palmer, the author of the ' Origines Liturgicae,' who 
enter very warmly into the business, and I hope that 
ere long we shall be able to send a handsome present 
to the brethren in America." 

What were then the feelings of the men who, un- 
knowingly to themselves, were becoming the leaders 
of the great Church movement of the day, is evi- 
denced in another passage from the same letter: 
" But I trust that there are many with you as there 
are very many with us, and the number is greatly 
increasing, who are determined to adhere, though 
they die for it, to Catholic doctrine and Catholic 
practice, resolutely opposing Popery on the one hand, 
and ultra Protestantism on the other. It was, indeed, 
your manly avowal of these principles in your first 
letter that excited in me so strong a wish to aid you 
in the good cause you have at heart." 

Hugh James Rose, who, though a Cambridge man, 
may not unjustly be called the father of the Oxford 
school, writing under date of April, 1837, says of 
his volume of sermons on the ministry, a number of 
copies of which my father had ordered for presenta- 
tion to the students of the seminary : "It possessed 
no novelty, but it was put forth at a time when, at 
Cambridge, such doctrines had rather been talked of 
for a long period, and while Whatelyism was reign- 
ing at Oxford. So far, I trust, it may have been, by 
God's blessing, useful. Now, a host of able men at 
Oxford are advocating the same principles, and now 
and then pressing things to an extreme. Still, their 
learning, ability, and munificent disinterestedness, as 



276 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

private men, must do good in the highest degree, and 
will give great weight to their public labors." 

I venture here upon a few extracts from letters 
of other English friends of this period, especially 
those of Sir Robert Inglis. 

From Sir Robert Inglis, September 9, 1833. 
. . . . " On Friday, the 6th, I went to see 
our venerable friend, Mrs. Hannah More, who, for 
some years, had retired here. [Clifton.] I found 
that in the preceding night a great change had taken 
place in her state, and she was gradually sinking. 
She was dying all day ; and on Saturday, the 7th, 
was summoned from this world. Though her mind has 
been eclipsed by her advancing years, — for she was 
in the eighty-ninth year of her life, — and though 
there was no longer any continuous flow of wisdom 
and of piety from her lips, yet the devotional habit 
of her days jaf health, gave even to the weakness of 
decay a sacred character, and her affections remained 
strong to the last. On Thursday last she became 
more evidently dying, her eyes closed, she made an 
effort to stretch forth her hands, and exclaimed to her 
favorite sister, now for many years departed, " Patty 
— joy." And when she could no longer articulate, 
her hands remained clasped as in prayer. Her very 
intimate friend, Mr. Harford, and I, sat by her bed- 
side, and in succession kissed her hand, and she in 
turn raised our hands to her lips. To myself it is a 
somewhat sino-ular circumstance, that havino; seen 
shortly before his death, in London, our admirable 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 277 

friend, Mr. Wilberforce, and having attended his 
funeral, I should, at so short an interval of time, but 
at a distance in point of place, been permitted to see 
the last one of his most intimate friends, herself emi- 
nent as a Christian character, and with whom in- 
deed he had taken counsel for nearly half a century. 
Knowing the value you attach to both, I have no 
scruple in giving you these details. The mode in 
which Mr. Wilberforce's funeral was attended, is a 
bright spot in the national character, in the midst of 
many unfavorable symptoms. Men of all ranks, 
parties, and creeds, concurred in doing honor to him, 
— some from gratitude for his book, and some from 
admiration and respect for his Christian character; 
others, perhaps the much larger number, from sym- 
pathy with his views in the abolition of the slave- 
trade ; but still, round his grave there they all stood, 
united for once in one common object — two of our 
royal dukes who differ in politics, also the Duke of 
Wellington and Lord Brougham, Sir Robert Peel 
and Lord Althorp ; a High-churchman and a Socin- 
ian, a Methodist and a Roman Catholic, I must not, 
however, run on without thanking you for your just 
and eloquent tribute to another eminent though dif- 
ferent person. Sir Walter Scott. Sir Thomas D. 
Acland read parts with great effect, at the meeting 
held in the Mansion House, in the city of London, to 
promote the subscription for the purpose of securing 
Abbotsford to the family of Scott. 



278 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

From the same, September 19, 1833. 
. . . . " You see that I write not about poli- 
tics, which yet, you may well believe, occupy me al- 
most day and night. The reform of Parliament is 
to be followed by reform of the Church ; a measure 
which even more than the other is connected with 
property ; and as property is the creature of law, 
anything which shakes its tenure in the hands of one 
class, may soon shake it in the hands of another. 
The law which vested half the property of the Church 
of Rome here, at the Reformation, in lay hands, 
while it vested the other half in the reformed Church, 
is as equally able and equally entitled to resume its 
grants from the lay sinecurists as it is to seize and 
subdivide the property which for three hundred years 
has been held, as it is now held, by those who, at all 
events, do something for it. England is indeed in a 
troubled state. It may please God's good providence 
to guard and guide us through the storm. But all 
analogy has proved that democracy never stops till 
it ends in anarchy, and anarchy is despotism. It is 
fearful to write these things, when we consider how 
much individual happiness, how much national use- 
fulness is at stake. We have been at once the most 
favored and the most ungrateful of people. But of 
one thing we are sure, that all things will work 
together for good to them who love God. Sursum 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 279 

Fkom the same, February 21, 1842. 

" We were delighted with Bishop 
Doane : and in return I think he seemed well pleased 
with ' Old England.' His visit has left a most happy, 
and I think enduring impression here. I remember 
to have told you, at the steps of the door of Battersea 
Rise, that if your country could and would send such 
a family as yours over to us, it would do more to form 
and confirm the union between the two countries than 
a treaty made at Washington : meaning, that the 
Christian intercourse of leading families from the 
United States with our people in England would, if 
repeated year after year, and still more, if recipro- 
cated by the visits of such families, or such individuals 
to your shores, do more to rub off the angles where 
collisions might arise, than any diplomacy. In that 
point of view, your Bishop Doane, — why may we 
not call him our Bishop Doane, — was most valuable 
to us. May God grant that we may never be per- 
mitted to go to war. It would be a fearful crisis for 
Christendom : but we should have gone to war if a 
hair of Macleod's head had been touched. There 
are too many on both sides of the water who would 
urge it; on the slave question, a war would be popu- 
lar in England ; but I repeat it, may God direct us 
both to peace." 

Mr. John Kenyon, writing in 1843, to introduce 
Mr. Macready, says : — 

" In arranging my small library here, I put your 



280 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

books on the shelves which I am fpnd of making little 
altars of friendly memories. You will some day, per- 
haps, come and see them there. 

" I propose that this note shall pass to you by the 
hands of Mr. Macready. He is a scholar and a gen- 
tleman in the best sense of that word, knowing, I 
have no doubt, many of your English friends, about 
whom he will tell you. I am habitually shy of giv- 
ing letters, and never make two persons known to 
each other where I do not perceive what the philoso- 
pher calls the ' fitness of things.' I heard Sidney 
Smith say the other day, speaking of your minister, 
who is an old friend of mine, ' One likes fitnesses, and 
Everett is a fitness.' " 

The little volume of " Family Devotions," already 
spoken of, was brought out from the press about this 
time, having for many years been used in the family 
in manuscript. Its Saxon purity of style, a pecul- 
iarity noticeable in all my father's writings, elicited, 
from Dr. Hook and other English friends, warm com- 
mendation. 

My father's pen was now as constantly in his hand 
as other duties would allow, and his reputation, not 
so much as an author as of a writer of wise thought 
and graceful language, was fairly established. The 
editor of the " Knickerbocker " writes to ask for oc- 
casional articles on his own terms, and the " New 
York Review " seldom appeared without at least one 
article from him. Dr. Wainwright, then in Boston, 
writes to thank him for his " First Lessons in Po- 
litical Economy," which he is himself using with a 



FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 281 

youthful class, and to urge on the promised larger 
works in the same department. Mr. Jared Sparks 
writes to the same effect. The " American Quar- 
terly " asks for an article on the United States Bank, 
and the Board of Missions passes a resolution request- 
ing him to take the editorship of the " Spirit of Mis- 
sions," and in the mean time his home letters show 
the busy man. January 9, 1836, he writes to his 
eldest son : — 

"In Church affairs I have been prosperous. I 
have succeeded in the $10,000 for the seminary 
library, and I think in the endowment of another 
professorship, and at any rate in getting Whitting- 
ham ^ there. I wish you could hear his sermons ; 
they are the only ones that come up to my mark. 
The stereotype edition of ' Hobart's Early Years ' is 
out. His ' Professional ' ones, at least one volume, 
for they grow, will be out in a few weeks. The 
press is slow work, and annoys me by its delays." 
^ Present Bishop of Maryland. 



CHAPTER XVni. 

COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY VARIED INTER- 
ESTS : 1835-1844. 

A LETTER from Philadelphia, dated October 
■^^ 28th, 1835, gives these last memories of 
Bishop White : — 

" I called on the Bishop before church, time enough 
to walk with the younger ladies, the Bishop having 
gone before by coach very much against his inclina- 
tions. His preaching to-day was contrary to the 
urgent solicitations of his family. But as it was, 
their fears were unnecessary. He preached a sound, 
excellent sermon, heard by those, at least, who were 
near him, and without any ill consequences, though 
I think that in all probability it is his last. It was 
deeply interesting on that account, and his first ap- 
pearance as he passed from the vestry-room, leaning 
on a staff, for he refuses all other aid, was touching 
in the extreme. His patriarchal figure, and silver 
hair, and benevolent, tranquil features, more espe- 
cially as he kneeled at the altar, or sat down in his 
crimson, mitred chair, formed a picture worthy of 
the pen of Scott, or the pencil of Rembrandt." 

Another, written, I presume, during the same 
visit, though undated, touches on many points of in- 
terest : — 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 283 
U. S. Hotel, Philadelphia, Saturday Morning. 

My dear Aunt, etc., — Spite of all my good 
resolutions, I am afraid I shall come to the practice 
of scribbling you a letter every morning and ruining 
you with postage. But Bardie says he will pay all, 
so here we go. 

Our first move yesterday morning after breakfast 
was through the snow to call, by appointment, upon 
Mr. Vaughn, who, an old bachelor of three-score 
years and ten, like his brother in London, lives, they 
say, to do good. As secretary of the Literary and 
Philosophical Society, his chambers are in their 
building. I found him with a book in his hands, in 
which he was ruling a line for me to write my name 
as a visitor of the institution. I begged him to rub 
it out as I always wrote crooked with such aids. I 
then scored my name just under, as I observed, that 
of Miss Martineau. This reminded me of her letter, 
so off we set to call upon her. On our way we 
stopped to see West's great picture. It is unques- 
tionably his best, but still, in my opinion, a moderate 
production. Compared with the pictures of the old 
mastei's, it is tame and cold both to the eye and mind. 
It wants power in the conception, skill in the group- 
ing, spirit in the expression, and brilliancy in coloring ; 
it is like a painstaking poet alongside of Shake- 
speare. I know you think this nonsense, but wait 
till you go to Italy and you shall judge for yourself. 
I take credit for saving this from destruction, for, from 
a broken window, the snow was driving upon it in a 



284 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

way that would soon have given it at least one of the 
merits of the old pictures. 

On reaching the residence of Mr. Furniss, I sent 
up my card, was introduced and received by a gentle- 
man, who, when Miss Martineau entered a minute 
after, disappeared. I was agreeably impressed by her 
appearance and manner, her pleasing countenance, 
fine eye, and sweet voice. The intercourse was by 
the trumpet, which, after all, is not so bad. At first 
it was rather awkward to look in her face and speak 
in the trumpet, and sometimes I reversed the order, 
and spoke to her face and looked in the trumpet. 
But practice makes perfect, especially the willing 
scholar, so an hour made me quite an adept. What 
we said, Bardie heard, so, although I do not write 
it, you may stretch your faith and believe it was 
nothing wrong ; like all her country, she disdains to 
inquire ; she means well, however, and I gave her a 
little of that commodity, I so often deal in, — plain 
advice, — the results she is to report at the college 
next summer. 

Dined at home, and the afternoon passed at the 
Athenseum, which is worth a hundred of ours because 
people are in earnest in the support of it. At seven 
dressed for a ball, with two engagements between. 
The first was the Philosophic Society, where we met 
some old and made some new friends. Among them 
was Duponceau, who grows old. " Was I thirty 
years younger," said he, " I should come on to New 

York and ofifer myself to my sweetheart, Miss ; 

tell her so." — "Not I," was my answer, "for I fear 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 285 

she will waive the condition, and then we lose her." 
Among the " bores " that I fell upon was an English 
doctor, who cures all with the stomach-pump, the 
theoiy of which he plied with such success upon me 
that it came near producing the natural effect, but I 
fortunately escaped in time. Our next visit was to 
the levee of a great Quaker nabob, Mr. Dunn, who 
opens his salon and library to company every Friday. 
We adjourned to it in force, Walsh, Colonel Drayton, 
Dr. Julius, and myself. And here I found Mr. 
Biddle, the head of the monster, who, taking me 
aside, not, as you might suppose, for the purpose of 
devouring me, established me in a snug corner where 
we had a long talk. But my own I find is too long 
or my paper too short, so the finale I must leave to 
my next, and tell you what you value most, some- 
thing about Bard. He is well in health and well in 
spirits. I put him on his mettle. To the ladies I 
introduce him as a young beau, to the politicians as 
a young diplomat, to Mr. Biddle as a young banker, 
and to jurists as a young lawyer, so he has to rub 
himself up. In truth he makes his own way well, 
and I think will soon be off my hands in the way of 
guidance. He receives as much attention as will do 
him good. But I am not afraid of conceit. Your 
fears, I know, are more awake for me than him, and 
though I do confess myself a little younger in some 
points, yet still, for good, I trust I shall never be old. 

Since life is thought, then think I will 
That youth and I are housemates still. 

A happy Christmas again to you and all my dear 
children. J. McV. 



286 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

The vacation life at Constableville, during these 
busy years, was all that could be desired. It gives a 
happy and gratifying picture of successfal efforts on 
the part of my father to assume among his children 
a mother's duties as well as his own. Writing to 
Miss Bard in 1834, he says : — 

" Comforts accumulate the longer we stay. The 
piano arrived in perfect order, and is a great addition 
to our pleasures. As it came on Saturday evening, 
its first use was its best, that of a hymn of thanks- 
giving on Sunday morning, which is now a regular 
part of our morning devotions, in which our children 
all unite with, I believe, heartfelt sincerity." 

In 1835, to the same : — 

" Our habits are domestic as usual. After reading 

I go out of my room about seven o'clock, prayers and 

• breakfast by eight, housekeeping and music for girls 

till about ten. I will not say that we always get 

down to reading aloud and drawing so soon as that, 

for H has fixed up his target, and, with the 

Swiss bows and arrows which have just arrived, there 
is a strong temptation to pass half an hour in archery, 
but down to reading we get at last, while some draw 
and others work. We shall soon take up the ' Life 
of Mackintosh ' and the new Reviews. By one o'clock 
there is some ride in agitation or perhaps already in 
execution, and by two or half past we are ready to 
obey the dinner bell. Our afternoons are more di- 
versified, and music, reading, and the hay-field, or a 
little good hard work carry on the day. After tea 
we adjourn to the north parlor, where is our sofa 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 287 

and piano, both of which are, I assure you, in good 
use." 

In 1836, also to the same : — 

" We have just finished reading the ' Life of 
Mackintosh.' It has both raised and lowered my 
opinion of him. Few men have labored more stren- 
uously against constitutional indolence. He had great 
kindness of heart, but he lived too much on others' 
good opinions to be esteemed a great man. 

" Yesterday I took an exploring turn to the limits 
of settlement on the hills. Knowing that there was 
a school-house there I took a bundle of tracts, etc., 
for premiums, but unfortunately found neither mis- 
tress nor scholars there. It did not prevent me, how- 
ever, giving a silent lesson. In the middle of the 
room stood a table, with a terrific rod standing erect 
in it, stuck in a hole for that purpose. I took away 
the rod, and in its place substituted my pile of little 
books." 

These were days of happy refreshment, and they 
were needed, for sorrow and bereavement were again 
knocking at the door. Samuel Bard McVickar, my 
father's eldest son, was a young man of uncommon 
promise. From a large class in Columbia he had 
carried off, each year, the gold medal of superiority 
in everything, and, in 1835, had graduated with the 
highest honors of the college. During the tour for 
health and recreation, which followed shortly on his 
graduation, preparatory to entering on a position of 
trust which had already been offered to him, he was 
taken ill. A few lines from my father show the 



288 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

spirit with which such news was then and ever re- 
ceived by him : — 

My very dear Son, — I write this in humble con- 
fidence in a gracious Father, that you are well 
enough to relieve us of our great anxiety, but, sick 

or well, H comes to entertain you and nurse you, 

and bring you back again, if that is thought best, well 
and happy. I comfort myself and all around me with 
that Word which is our comfort in sorrow, and, I 
trust, our guide in health. " I will not be afraid of 
evil tidings ; my heart standeth fast and believeth in 
the Lord." .... God bless you, my dear son ; 
all send prayers and good wishes, and if these might 
avail you, your sickness would soon be past, and I 
trust they do prevail and that you are w-ell. So prays 
Your aifectionate father, 

J. McV. 

Two years of uncertain health were granted, when, 
on another absence from home in search of healthful 
occupation, the following message had to be sent by an 
absent father, who had not been able to reach his bed- 
side of severe illness as early as others of the family. 

" Should he yet be spared to your tender cares say 
to him that my blessing rests upon him, and that I 
am hastening to him ; that my comfort, like his, is not 
of this world ; and that I part with him as a child 
called home from wandering in a weary land." 

He was again spared to reach the home circle 
at Constableville, but nothing more. He lingered 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 289 

awhile amid scenes whose retrospect is filled with 
spiritual happiness, and then passed away. 

The calm but sorrowing circle thus broken again, 
was soon joined by one who felt that all its sorrows as 
well as joys belonged of right to her, the venerable 
Miss Sally Bard, whose acquaintance the reader has 
already made in the course of these pages. She was 
now in her eighty-second year, and it had been con- 
sidered that the journey, a long and toilsome one at 
that time, was too much for her strength and years. 
Staying at Hyde Park, her anxiety for one whom she 
regarded as a son, had been very harrowing; but 
when the blow came, as always seemed her experi- 
ence, faith spread its shield, and it fell in blessings. 
The following is the entry in her diary after hearing 
the sad news : ' — 

'■'•August 12, 1837. — After my above anxious ut- 
terances of yesterday, I received from my dear Mr. 
McVickar, that his beloved son was at rest, more 
than at rest, in the happiness of paradise. All his 
sickness, pain, and struggles over, all now joy, and 
peace, and thanksgiving. O let us dwell upon His 
mercies who gave us such children, who, in life and 
death, were equally a blessing to us. I pray that their 
heaven-supported father may be long sheltered under 
the wings of his Saviour, for the guidance and comfort 
of his remaining children, before he is called away 
to perfect happiness above. And, for myself, with a 
grateful heart I praise thy holy name, for the peace I 
feel within me, thy Peace^ let me not be presumptuous 
in believing, for it surely is not my own." 

19 



290 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

My father, feeling her lonehness, separated from 
those she most loved, went at once to Hyde Park, 
and finding her not only willing but anxious to at- 
tempt the journey, immediately returned with her. 
On the 22d, in clear and beautiful handwriting, she 
makes the following entry in her diary : — 

" I am once more at Turin, returned from Hyde 
Park with my dear Mr. McVickar ; the fatigue was 
less than I expected, and I have the comfort of 
being again with my beloved family and received 
by my dear children with surprise and joy ; but O, 
how I missed one dear face, ever lit up with smiles 
to receive and welcome me. Yet, let me contrast 
his present happiness with all this world could give, 
in its brightest forms, and, instead of repining, bow 
with heartfelt gratitude to Him who, in mercy, took 
him from pain and disease and all the vicissitudes 
and trials of this life, an early offering to his Saviour, 
to live with Him in endless felicity, and, I trust, to 
be in sweet communion with beloved ones gone be- 
fore." 

This entry in her diary — a diary of twenty-six 
years — was the last she ever made. Though appar- 
ently in her usual health when she arrived, she soon 
began to fail, and within a few weeks passed calmly 
away, to enter upon the reality of those blessings 
which had so long been hers through faith, and to 
rejoin the many loved ones whose peaceful departure 
she had witnessed. 

Thus broke away, within a few weeks of each 
other, from the home-circle, the first-born son, whose 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 291 

opening promise of twenty-three summers was such 
a bond upon the future, and the aged, motherly aunt, 
of eighty-two years, whose sympathies in times gone 
by so bound my father to the past. That he felt both 
losses deeply, though so different in their character, 
is unquestioned, but the chief way he showed it was 
in an increased devotion to the daily duties of his 
actively useful life. 

At the invitation of the Alumni Association of 
Columbia College, he delivered before them, in Octo- 
ber of this year, an address which " The New York 
American " characterizes as " one of the happiest 
efforts of one of our best writers." Though several 
subjects are introduced, among them a sketch of the 
life and character of his predecessor in the chair of 
Moral Philosophy, the Rev. Dr. Bowden, the evident 
object of the address is to urge the establishment, by 
an Alumni endowment, of a Professorship of the Evi- 
dences of Christianity. The matter, in its proposed 
form, came to nothing, but in substance it was a suc- 
cess, my father having, with the permission of the 
trustees, immediately, without compensation, assumed 
the duties. He continued them until the readjust- 
ment of the chairs of the college in 1857, when that 
of the " Evidences " was not only made distinct, but 
placed first in the list, and my father appointed its 
first professor. 

Written over thirty years ago, this address suggests 
principles in the study of the Evidences, the truth 
and importance of which the scientific advances of 



292 LIFE OF JOHN MCVWKAR. 

to-day have simply settled. Witness the following 
short extracts : — 

" The truth of the Bible is a question of evidence 
cumulative ; not only does its testimony come from 
every quarter of human knowledge, but it grows and 
advances with it. It stands, therefore, among the 
sciences of progressive discovery; day by day its 
limits are enlarging ; its materials accumulating, and 
its arguments strengthening. There is no science 
but brings tribute to it, no branch of learning but 
bears fruit for it, no discovery, whether of ancient or 
modern research, but throws some new light upon it. 
The astronomer, as he watches in the heavens nebulas 
of light centring into suns ; the geologist, as he 
demonstrates out of organic remains the progressive 
order of creation ; the naturalist, in detecting the 
edible grasses growing wild on the mountains of 
Central Asia; the historian, as he traces up the 
origin of nations to their common cradle ; the philol- 
ogist, in folloMang up affiliated languages till at last 
they stand side by side, alike and yet different, like 
dissevered rocks which some great organic convulsion 
of nature had split asunder, leaving an unbridged 
chasm ; the ancient scholar, recovering some lost 
passage of Berosus, verifying the Mosaic record; 
the antiquarian, reestablishing, by means of a coin, 
the impeached veracity of St. Paul, — all bear upon 
the Bible, and require in the teacher as varied learn- 
ing to keep pace with the progress of science, and to 
collect, arrange, and enforce its scattered evidences." 

" All truth is one, and, come from what source it 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 293 

may, can never be at variance with itself. As with 
the rays of solar light, so with those of truth. How- 
ever bent or reflected, they are traceable back to one 
centre ; however colored, they are still but elements 
of one primitive, pure beam. With our limited 
powers of vision, we see truth but in fragments, and 
to them give the name of varied sciences ; but could 
we, from some loftier stand, take them all in at one 
comprehensive glance, we would see them to be but 
parts of one great science — but radii of one circle, 
of which nature is the circumference, and God the 
centre." 

During these years, which were, in truth, among 
the most actively employed and influential of my 
father's life, I find myself, as his biographer, reduced 
to very scanty material. Bundles of letters from 
foreign and home correspondents, especially from Sir 
Robert Inglis and Archbishop Whately, suggest 
sources of information which it has been found im- 
possible to obtain. I therefore confine myself to the 
few salient points of interest which appear above the 
natural level of a very busy academic and Church- 
society life. Among these stands out with some 
prominence the question of the Christian character 
of the philosophy of Coleridge. 

Coleridge and his philosophy were becoming at that 
time as nearly popular, both in England and this 
country, as such a writer and such subjects can ever 
be. Not that all agreed with him or even understood 
him, but he was read widely and his works were pro- 
ducing considerable influence, especially on youthful 



294 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

thinkers. The " Aids to Reflection " had been 
brought to the notice of the American public in 
1829 by an edition published at Burlington, Vt., 
with a thoughtful Preliminary Essay by Dr. Marsh, 
of the University of Vermont. The "Churchman," 
of New York, then ably edited by Dr. Seabury, had 
given in its almost unconditional approval to both 
Coleridge and his school of thought. My father, too, 
was an admirer of much that he had written, and of 
the high spiritual tone of his philosophy ; but he was 
never a wholesale approver of any human system, 
and in this of Coleridge he thought he saw much of 
danger to the simplicity of Christian faith. He 
therefore unhesitatingly sounded the note of warning, 
and wrote for the columns of the " Churchman " 
strictures on what he thought was a " communica- 
tion " too indiscriminate in its praise. The supposed 
communication turned out to be from the editorial 
pen, and my father thus found himself involved in 
what is always hazardous, an editorial controversy. 
The following opening of his next communication 
will show how wisely and delicately he conducted it, 
while it may give us a lesson which the controver- 
sialists of the present day would do well to study : — 

Mr. Editor, — Had I recognized your pen in 
the recent eulogium in your paper on ' The Cole- 
ridge Philosophy,' I had probably been more cautious 
of entering on that contested field, as I esteem it 
alike discourteous and unsafe to attack an editor in 
his own columns. It is not, therefore, in acceptance 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 295 

of your chivalric challenge that I renew the subject. 
Because you look at the golden side of the image 
and I at the brazen is no reason why, knight-errant- 
like, we should draw swords on that grave question ; 
at least not until we have looked on both sides, and 
settled by mutual examination whether the precious 
or the baser metal preponderates in the image that has 
been set up, and before which some are but too well 
inclined, when they hear the trumpet sounded, to fall 
down and worship. Nor shall we, I think, differ in 
our conclusions, for I never yet knew difference in 
men's estimate of things to be more than skin-deep, 
provided there was equal knowledge and sincerity — 
the latter qualification for peace I am sure there is ; 
to attain the /ormer, I herewith give you my views 
on the subject, in order that, if incorrect, they may 
be amended, or if imperfect, enlarged ; being fully 
satisfied of the general conclusion that they who 
mean well, end, in the long run, in thinking right. 

The concludino; lines of this communication sug- 
gest the danger which, in spite of his own admira- 
tion, was ever present to my father's mind in con- 
nection with the works of Coleridge, and the fear of 
which led him, perhaps, into some unphilosophic 
statements : — 

" I fear, Mr. Editor, this error ; that of leading 
the unlearned to think that human philosophy is to 
come in aid of Scriptural revelation, and that the 
education of the Christian is to be esteemed imper- 
fect till he has been taught to fathom the depths of 



296 LIFE OF JOHN McyJCKAR. 

Coleridge or the bottomless abstractions of the Ger- 
man school." 

There is a confusion here which displays the weak 
point in my father's side of this argument. Because 
the education of the Christian, as' such, may not be 
deemed imperfect through ignorance of human phi- 
losophy, it does not, therefore, follow, as he maintains, 
that human philosophy may not come to the aid of 
Scriptural revelation. Philosophy and revelation are 
as two parallel streams : the former fed by innumer- 
able tributaries does still, left to itself, lose itself in 
the sands of finite speculation ; while the latter, issu- 
ing from a single spring, flows undiminished into the 
eternal rock. Unite them in their early course, and 
revelation, as well as philosophy, is the gainer : hu- 
man philosophy, by being preserved from ultimate 
failure ; and revelation, by being brought to sweeten 
and strengthen new and lifeless soils. 

It would seem as if Coleridge maintained the first 
of these, as I believe, erroneous propositions, that 
" revelation needs philosophy ; " while my father, in 
combating it, fell somewhat into the second, that 
" philosophy can give no aid to revelation." 

But he was a real lover of all true philosophy, 
and hence of all the philosophic truths of Cole- 
ridge, and it grieved him to see, as he thought, the 
streams of his influence perverted. This led to a 
second American edition of the " Aids to Reflection," 
with a preliminary essay by himself. In it he gives 
all due honor to Dr. Marsh, the former editor, but 
maintains that Coleridge cannot be properly under- 



COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 297 

stood, or his philosophy wisely studied, except in the 
light of the faith of the Church of England, of 
which he was a conscientious member. This was 
true, but the pressing of it offended minds that were 
philosophic rather than religious, and gave rise to 
considerable controversy, and perhaps laid my father 
open to the charge of some inconsistency. 

Henry Nelson Coleridge, the literary executor and 
first editor of his uncle's works, writing under date 
of April, 1840, says, " Your preface is very spirited, 
eloquent, and likely to popularize the volume to 
readers generally, especially to such of tliem as are 
members of the Church of Eno-land." And ao;ain 
in August, 1840, " I confess I greatly regret the 
party character which seems to have attached itself 
to the two editions to the ' Aids to Reflection.' S. T. 
C.'s personal habits and sympathies were those of a 
member of the Church of England ; but his support 
of it will be found in principle and by influence, and 
not so much in direct advocacy or defense." 

I turn from this little cloud of litex'ary controversy, 
which was to my father neither common nor con- 
genial, to give a single home letter of this period to 
show how fully, when absent, he strove to contribute 
to that fund of family cheerfulness which was ever 
with him as well a promoter as an evidence of Chris- 
tian faithfulness ; — 

Tremont House, Boston, Tuesday. 
Before I can sleep in peace I must have a little 
chat with those I love best, that What we enjoy they 



298 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

may enjoy too. So now for our journey. Our boat 

was a splendid one, the afternoon delightful ; F ■ 

in good humor, I not in bad, so we get on pretty 
well. And it was well that we were something to 
each other, for there was nobody else to be anything 
to us — not a face I had seen before or ever care to see 
again. Mr. Goodhue had told me of a Mr. Jackson, 
of Lowell, on board, whom I would find intelligent, 
and described him as a gentleman with green specta- 
cles. As a matter of curiosity, not because I needed 

him, F and I speculated for him among our 

fellow-passengers. There were two competitors for 
the description, — each near it. One a bandy-legged, 
long-bodied man, whose fingers came within twelve 
inches of the deck, with white spectacles and large, 
green blinders, like a horse that is apt to be fright- 
ened ; the other gaunt and tall with glasses, however 
blue, rather than green. What between their physi- 
ognomies and their dubious claims, I did not trouble 
them with a new acquaintance. On going to pay our 
passage I found the captain's window barred by a 
new obstacle. An old woman, in paying her fare, 
whether from hardness of hearing or anxiety to see 
that her change was right, had climbed up, forced 
head and shoulders through, and when I reached it 
hung about fairly balanced, half in and half out, 
while the impatient crowd around waiting for their 
turn were about in an equal balance which way they 

should help her 

To make up old scores, I lay late this morning, and 
on reaching the parlor, found Dr. Wainwright and his 



VARIED INTERESTS. 299 

daughter awaiting our appearance. F came out 

at the same time, and we had plenty of talk while a 
nice breakfast was making ready, which (I would add 
for the reputation of our health) we greatly enjoyed. 
Our kind friend, Mr. Ward, had last night planned 
Lowell for us to-day ; so at eleven he called, in his 
carriage with his daughter, for us and Mr. Stevens, 
who, with his two boys, made up the party. We 
joined the cars at the bridge, set off like the wind, 
and uncommoded by noise, dust, or ill-humor, and 
having got but half through a good, long, cheerful 
argument upon which we had entered, we found 
ourselves twenty-five miles from Boston, in the midst 
of this little "Manchester" of six years' growth. 
Though composed entirely of factories and the dwell- 
ings of the operatives, I beg you not to think it either 
dirty or disagreeable. I assure you it is neither ; but 
neat, clean, and airy. The young girls were just 
marshaling back to the mills in troops and bands, 
looking cheerftil and healthy. But factories are 
things you care nothing about and I not much, that 
is to say, out of political economy. So after a nice 
little dinner, we resumed our seats at three o'clock in 
our flying vehicle, and a few minutes after four were 
aorain at home, thus having in less than five hours 
travelled over fifty miles, visited as many manufac- 
turing rooms, eaten a quiet, comfortable dinner, and 
had two hours of unrestrained, hearty talk, and all 
without fatigue. So much for the march of improve- 
ment ! Mrs. Webster, I forgot to tell you, I called 
on this morning. She set off for New York an hour 



800 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

after, and expressed much regret on F 's account. 

After escorting F to Mrs. Wainwright's, where 

was a little party of young folks, my engagements 
were to sit an hour with Mr. Bowditch, and an hour or 
two more with one of their scientific clubs. With Mr. 
Bowditch I was delighted ; he reminded me strongly 
of Dr. Rush in look and manner ; cheerful, intelligent, 
and warm-hearted, I could hardly break away, and 
have promised to call again. The club they call the 
" Old Club." It is one of the applications of the epithet 
with which I will not quarrel — but — good-night — 
with every prayer of love for you all — good-night. 

Such is a letter both unsigned and undated, though 
belonging to about this period, which is characteristic 
of the happy way in which, when absent, my father 
made those that were left behind to feel that they 
were not forgotten, and thus ever to insure for him- 
self a hearty welcome home, — a home which, from 
this time forth for eight long years, was to have in it 
the room of the helpless, though bright and cheerful 
invalid. Never was a sick-room that had a happier 
influence, and my father, like all others who strove 
to brighten its inmate, had to confess that more 
was received than given. Yet this was but the 
true reflection of his own teaching. Absent from 
home when the stroke of threatened illness came, 
he writes to the one thus afllicted : " Life passes 
quickly, and what does it leave behind worth having, 
but a Christian's peace and hope. Bear up, then, my 
dear daughter ; all is for the best to those who sub- 



VARIED INTERESTS. 301 

mit themselves in faith. The clay before us is our 
life. What to-morrow will bring forth, whether 
health or sickness, who knows save He who orders 
all for the final good of those who love and trust 
Him." 

In obituary notices, whether of the tongue or pen, 
my father was remarkably happy, and ever ready at 
the call of friendship. The following from an ex- 
tempore address in moving the resolutions of re- 
spect on the death of Rev. Dr. Bayard will help to 
fill out his portrait in this respect, and recall to many 
the mingled grace and earnestness of his public speak- 
ing;: — 

. . . . " The impression, Mr. Chairman, our 
friend ever left was that of a true-hearted man, the 
rarest and the noblest picture which our formalized, 
degenerate days can exhibit. There was in him a 
certain honest simplicity and right-mindedness which 
gave fearlessness to the whole character — the union, 
I might almost say, of the child and the lion. But 
what I may well say is, that it was, in human measure, 
* that single eye ' which our Lord had blessed, and of 
which the promise was, in our friend, in due meas-' 
ure, fulfilled, that ' the whole body should be full 
of light.' His heart it was that doubled the powers 
of his head, and the sincerity and directness of his 
speech went home to the conviction, even beyond 
his argument. Now, Mr. Chairman, far beyond all 
intellectual power do I honor, nay, reverence such a 
man ; for, inasmuch as the primal curse of our na- 
ture was the severance of the conscience from the 



302 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

reason, and of the heart from the head of man, so 
too do I seem to see in every such instance of true- 
hearted character, the type of man's better nature 
appearing, the anticipated restoration rather, through 
grace, of the once defaced image of God in our 
souls. 

" I have said that sincerity doubled his powers. 
The assertion reminds me of the reply of Mirabeau 
in reference to one whom he feared, ' I stand in awe,' 
said he, ' of that man, for he believes every word that 
he says.' Now, such was our lamented brother. 
He spoke not the word that he believed not, there- 
fore were his words living words, and had power, 
for they came home to our inner and better nature. 
He ever spoke what he thought, and he thought 
what his conscience made him feel to be true, and 
right, and just. No man, therefore, doubted him, no 
man distrusted him, no honest heart ever feared 
him, and no kind and good heart, that knew him, 
but loved him. Such was our lamented friend in 
my eyes ; and in the course of an experience, now 
not a short one, never have I met with a man who 
bore more visibly stamped upon him, what with rev- 
erence I may term Heaven's broad seal — the stamp 
of Truth." 

It was in the year 1843 that my father, as su- 
perintendent of the " Society for the Promotion of 
Religion and Learning," brought forward, with the 
approbation of the Society, his " plan for ministerial 
education." Up to this time, the funds of the So 
ciety, and of the Church, had been distributed by 



VARIED INTERESTS. 303 

favor, to what Avere called " beneficiaries," young 
men recommended by others as fit recipients of the 
Church's aid. This was, by the proposed plan, 
changed in principle, and all aid was henceforth to 
be given only to " scholars " who had borne off the 
prize in open competition among those whose other- 
wise good character had admitted them to the trial. 
The system was not to stop at the Seminary, where 
a room, free education, and two hundred dollars a 
year was the prize ; this, by special agreement, was 
to be competed for in a number of our first class 
colleges ; while free education at these same colleges, 
and a one hundred dollar stipend, was set before 
the schools ; and in the schools themselves, fi'ee 
education and forty dollars a year was an open* 
prize to the best scholar among those whose parents 
desired them to look to the Church as their pro- 
fession. This " plan," Avith such modifications as 
the practical experience of its working has rendered 
necessary, has ever since been the system of the 
*' Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learn- 
ing," whose wisely administered and largely increased 
funds has made it so efficient a helper to Church 
education in the State of New York. There is one 
feature, however, which seems to have been en- 
tirely dropped, and the neglect of which is suffi- 
cient to account for the burden of the society's 
annual complaint against the parishes that they take 
so little interest in aiding by their contributions the 
spread and increase of its efficient labors. This 
feature is provided for in the fourth section of the 
adopted plan — as follows : 



304 LIFE OF JOHN MGVICKAR. 

" Of the parochial collections or contributions of 
the diocese, required by canon, one half thereof, if 
desired by the parish, to be annually funded by the 
society and placed to the credit of the contributing 
church, towards the foundation of a perpetual schol- 
arship, to be known forever, when completed, under 
the name of said church, and the presentation to 
be vested in its rector or corporation, subject, as 
above, to the rules and regulations of the society." 

In enlarging upon this feature of the plan in 
the columns of the " Churchman," he maintains, — 
" 1. That it will identify the interests of ministerial 
education with the interests and feelings of the diocese 
at large. And, 2. That it will lead to the estab- 
lishment of the higher classical schools in connection 
with parishes and under the control of their respect- 
ive rectors." And in speaking of its ultimate results, 
he says : — 

" Thus no parish in the diocese will be without 
its organized parochial school ; no school without its 
perpetual scholarship, no scholarship without its 
openly tried and worthy scholar ; and no scholar in 
any part of the diocese, however poor or destitute of 
friends, but seeing before him through these open 
prizes, the path of advancement up to the very por- 
tals of the Church he loves, provided he can but 
make good his superior claims, step by step, in open 
competition. 

" But if in derogation of such glowing picture^ it 
be objected that it is a far distant one, the church- 
man's answer is : Nothing is far distant in the policy 



VARIED INTERESTS. 305 

of the Church that is progressive and certain. As 
the Church has no Hmited duration, so neither is 
the question of time to determine her course. All 
that is needed for the Church's decision is, that her 
plans be true in principle, and that they work for- 
ward on the great moving springs of our nature. 
All the rest she leaves in confidence to God's bless- 
ing, who demands from man the use of means, but 
not the results of them." 

" No. 8 College Green," the old familiar city resi- 
dence of Professor McVickar, where he lived for forty 
years, until the college buildings were pulled down, 
and the goodly home and academic neighborhood of 
Park and College Place given up to business, was the 
scene of much pleasant and intellectual society. " The 
Club," as it was called and familiarly known by old 
New Yorkers, met there regularly in its appointed 
turn. It was a dignified assemblage, as I remember , 
it in my youthful days, confined to twelve members, 
and composed of such men as Peter Jay, Judge 
Kent, Dr. John A. Smith, etc., and the rule of the 
club that each member may bring to the meeting one 
distinguished stranger, insured always sufficient 
novelty to keep the conversation fresh, and make 
this weekly gathering one of real Interest. At one 
of these meetings at our house, the present Ex- 
Emperor of France was a guest, and I have often 
heard my father tell in a tone of amusement, of his 
serious use on that occasion of the followino^ argu- 
ment against the employment of paper money, in his 
somewhat broken English : " I go out shooting, I 
20 



306 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

load my gun, I put my hand in my pocket for a wad, 
I ram it down, I fire off my gun, and then I say, 
Bah ! I've fired off ten dollars." And this at a time 
w^hen ten-dollar bills were not plentiful with the 
ambitious adventurer, whose subsequent course has 
drawn so marked a line over the historic page of 
Europe. 

Letters of introduction from English friends also 
brought to that old house pleasant guests. Charles 
Dickens was the bearer of such a letter from Mr. 
John Kenyon, a short extract from which will be 
of interest, as giving the English estimate of this great 
author, in 1841, and more especially as telling us 
something about Mrs. Dickens, whose misfortune it 
would seem to have been to be a retiring, simple- 
minded lady. 

. . . " My object in this is to introduce to 
yourself and family, including my young friend 
Henry, your son, who should come and see us again, 
Mr. and Mrs. Dickens. I will say nothing of him 
of whom all Europe, and further countries, ring from 
side to side, — as they ought, of a man who employs 
so much genius in the service of all humanities and 
all generosities, — but would more particularly intro- 
duce Mrs. Dickens to you as one of those unpresuming 
spirits who will make no claims for herself. And one 
claim which I will make for her is, that she is the 
granddaughter of Mr. Thomson of Edinburgh, still 
alive, the dear and kindly friend of him who had few 
peers among men of genius, (Coleridge used, I re- 
member, to put him as one of the four great poets of 



VARIED INTERESTS. 307 

the world) — of Burns. They are going southward, 
where I have no friends. What I wish to procm'e 
for them on their journey is not the opportunity of gay 
society, of which they will have more than enough, 
but to give them, and more particularly Mrs. Dick- 
ens, the opportunity of knowing a few quiet, friendly 
persons, who will offer quiet conversation and any in- 
formation which may be useful, more particularly to 
a lady travelling in a new country." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

CHAPLAINCY DUTIES: 1844-1862. 

"IV/r Y father had now reached his fifty-sixth year ; a 
-^"-■- time of Hfe when most men, if they do not 
think of rest, do still hesitate about adding to their 
work. Yet we find him this year accepting the 
chaplaincy of Fort Columbus in the harbor of New 
York. 

He had always been fond of parochial work, and 
was not only ever ready to assist his brother clergy- 
men, but constantly went out of his way to do so ; 
generally singling out those, whether young or old, 
whom he had reason to believe were over- worked. 
A friend and relative knowing his feelings in this re- 
spect, and being also acquainted with the officers of 
this post, mentioned his name and secured his appoint- 
ment. This unexpected proffer of missionary work, 
for it was really such, the performance of which Avas 
rendered possible by residence at the post not being 
required, came during the college vacation, and my 
father accepted and entered upon it at once. He 
probably never gave a thought to the possibility of its 
concerning any one but himself. But to the College 
authorities it appeared differently, and some pressure 
was brought to bear upon him to induce him to give 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 309 

it up, as inconsistent with his professorial position and 
the niles of the college. This he stoutly refused to 
do, and said he would resign his professorship rather 
than the chaplaincy with its hard work among the sol- 
dier's, and its seven hundred dollars a year salary. The 
old professor, for he had long been the senior mem- 
ber of the board, and had now held his chair for 
over a quarter of a century, triumphed ; but by some 
the offense was never forgiven. It was a case where 
the official red tape failed to appreciate the presence 
of a higher law. To have insisted on the professor 
resigning this work, thus undertaken with the most 
disinterested motives, would have been to injure his 
moral self-respect, and thus cause a disadvantage to 
the college greater than any distraction of thought or 
absorption of leisure time caused by the new duty. 
This at least was true of a professor of his years and 
standing, whatever it might be in the case of one just 
entering on his duties. 

.Fort Columbus was then the great recruiting depot 
of the United States army, and its chaplain was thus 
brought in contact with the soldier when most sus- 
ceptible to his influence. His quarters, unneeded for 
residence, were soon made the receptacle of lend- 
ing and gift libraries, for the replenishing of which 
nearly every publisher in the city was put under con- 
tribution, and most of whom gladly responded. Not 
• a soldier left the post under orders without the offer 
of a Bible and a Book of Common Prayer ; and not 
an officer who had shown interest in his services, 
without being taken to his quarters and made to 



310 LIFE OF JOHN M'^VICKAR. 

select some work from the library as a memento of 
their intercourse. 

On first entering upon his duties, the chaplain 
found no place set apart for public worship, except 
the large room used on week-days as the busmess 
office of the post ; and on several Sundays business 
requirements forced them to vacate even this and go 
to an inconvenient upper room for service. This 
quickly determined him to make an effort for a 
chapel, but he found the matter surrounded with ap- 
parently insurmountable difficulties. Government 
was not accustomed to build chapels ; nor was it will- 
ing either to make an appropriation for the purpose, 
or to allow others, even if prepared, to build on gov- 
ernment ground. But there was determined perse- 
verance on the one side, and probably friends at 
court on the other ; not least among the latter being 
the then commander-in-chief of the army, General 
Scott. The result was a personal lease from the gov- 
ernment of about one hundred and fifty feet square, 
on the south side of the island, subject to the exigen- 
cies of war ; and within the year, the completion of 
a most tasteful and church-like building of wood, 
after my father's own plans, and from funds given 
and collected by himself. Writing to his eldest son, 
then a missionary near Lake George, he says : — 

" My church goes on beautifully. It grows upon 
me every time I see it. It has, beyond any little 
church I know, the two elements I want in a rural 
house of God — humility and reverence. These 
are both strongly awakened, and when summer 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES, 311 

comes you cannot imagine a more beautiful spot. It 
is true it is something against architectural rule, but 
I have chosen to work rather with the ' elements ' 
than under ' models,' and thus to work out the same 
problem by original methods. I look to the effect, and 
work it out as I can. This is great talk for a little 
church, but I think you will like it. As to cost, it 
will sum up when finished to near $2,500. What I 
can raise by the help of friends I will ; what I cannot 
I must bear, and hold it a consecrated gift, laid on 
God's altar, a trespass-offering for years of over-de- 
votion to the acquisition of wealth." 

This last sentence seems to demand some word of 
explanation, for if my father be right in representing 
his life as one of " over-devotion to the acquisition of 
wealth," then is his biographer at fault in failing, as 
he knows he has, in so presenting it. But the truth 
of the case is this. My father, as a political econo- 
mist, had a clear and far-seeing head in all matters of 
business, which sometimes led him to make invest- 
ments which required more business devotion than 
he ever considered himself justified, as a clergyman, 
in giving to them, and which, on this very account, 
became sources of annoyance and perplexity. A 
^ case in point was his purchase of the whole north 

• side of Union Square in this city, at the time of the 

* laying out of that square. He saw clearly its future 
importance, but he did not, perhaps, sufficiently cal- 
culate the heavy drain from taxes and assessments 
which must precede the attainment of its present 
value, a yearly rental, within thirty years, of more 



312 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

than what the property then cost. The worry and 
anxiety connected with this purchase, which he was 
not able to hold, and some speculative investments 
made in the West, is translated by him into " over- 
devotion to the acquisition of wealth," and brings 
forth the following self-condemnatory reflections writ- 
ten out at the close of his account book in 1845 : — 

Thoughts on closing this Account Book or fifteen Yeahs. 

College, February 3, 1845. 

I am glad to be able to close my eyes, not, I trust, 
my penitential thoughts, on this long arrear of world- 
liness and grasping desire of wealth, by transferring 
to a new book the few accounts that yet remain un- 
settled. The most of them, after tantalizing for a 
while with a restless show of profit, terminated in 
disappointment, and some in lawsuits. All the sor- 
rows of my life from all other causes have not, I 
think, equaled those from this single source, namely, 
the speculative purchases into which I was led by 
persuasion, or perhaps self-prompted, in the years 
1835, 1836, and 1837 ; as I verily believe they have 
brought upon me deeper guilt than any or all other 
temptations united. God be thanked, that I have 
survived the shock, the trial, and the disgrace, and 
that a remnant of days is yet spared me, vvith an 
humbler mind and higher hopes, and that God has at 
length called me to a spiritual charge wherein I may 
show the sincerity of my faith and repentance. 

Through Christ may that call be blessed to me and 
those to whom I minister. Amen. So be it. 

J. McV. 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 313 

It is but riglit, as regards a just judgment of my 
father in this matter, to state that these " Western 
speculations " were entered into principally to give 
occupation to the invalid son whose death was lately 
noticed, and it was his death which threw the whole 
burden of their care upon one necessarily absent and 
fully engaged in other duties. 

But to return to the little chapel at Governor's 
Island and the interests that centred around it. 
The war with Mexico breaking out at this time 
increased greatly the difficulties to be overcome. 
These were fully appreciated, as the following ex- 
tract from a letter shows, on the army side : — 

" To me, and I believe all of us, the interest of the 
Church is greatly enhanced by its erection in war 
times on the very scene of active preparation for dis- 
tant service. It seems a happy omen of those times 
when war shall be known no more. That it is fairly 
erected and completed seems to me almost a miracle, 
and to you, dear sir, it must seem almost a creation. 
It has taught me a lesson in the power of faith and 
perseverance that I trust I shall never forget. Those 
of us who knew the peculiar and tormenting dis- 
couragementj^ under which you labored, and which 
deemed to us insurmountable, cannot too highly ap- 
preciate a labor which not only benefits Governor's 
Island but the whole army.'* 

An officer, writing from the far-off field of battle, 
says : " I am much pleased to hear of your final and 
complete success in building a church on the island, 
and shall place my small donation in your hands at 



314 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

i 
the first good opportunity. May its hallowed walls 

echo back strains of pure devotion from the hearts 
and lips of its fortunate attendants, and may its 
erection prove the means of turning many from the 
power of Satan unto God. If it shall be my privi- 
lege to return again to the United States, it will 
arouse no ordinary feelings of emotion in my heart to 
enter into the courts of our little sanctuary, and there 
to join the voice of prayer and praise to Him who is 
the God of dangers and of protection. Be so kind, 
my dear sir, in your next letter, as to describe its 
position and its form, even in details." 

Fort Columbus, as has been said, was the great 
recruiting depot of the army ; the numbers, therefore, 
that came under the chaplain's notice in war times 
was greatly increased. As the common soldier is 
not generally considered very impressible, we may 
judge somewhat of the spiritual power of the work 
centring round this little chapel by knowing that 
it received several bequests from common soldiers 
dying in the hospitals of Mexico. The circle of its 
influence was a large one. The regiments were 
often changed, and when they were, a practical 
symbolism was enlisted to give permanency to the 
spiritual impressions already made. The communi- 
cants among the commissioned officers were assem- 
bled by the chaplain and requested to choose a Bible 
text which should be the motto of their regiment, 
this was then inscribed, with proper device and color, 
on a metal shield, with the name of the regiment, 
and solemnly hung on the walls of the chapel, a 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 315 

binding link to the absent, a suggestive subject of 
reflection to the present worshippers. 

In July, 1849, writing to an absent son, my father 
says : " The little Church of St. Cornelius is grow- 
ing in historic interest as well as beauty. The three 
successive commands of the island have all their 
mementos on its walls, — texts selected by them, 
with appropriate shields ; and what is more satisfac- 
tory yet, I never had better attendance from the 
officers. College is now over ; president and all but 
Dr. Anthon gone ; we shall probably be quiet, and, 
with my island, not without work. Trinity Church, 
too, will be a resource ; I have supplied the duty 
there for the last two days ; I shall resume Ger- 
man, too, and look over my college notes. At any 
rate, ars longa. No difficulty in finding something 
to do." 

An interesting episode occurred after the close of 
the Mexican War in the encampment, for a time, on 
the Island, of what was called the California Regi- 
ment of Colonel Stevenson. This was a semi-mili- 
tary colony, under government patronage, going to 
take practical possession of the newly acquired terri- 
tory of California. The proposed expedition aroused 
all my father's clear-sighted zeal, both for the com- 
monwealth and the Church. He saw how much of 
the future of California, civil and ecclesiastical, might 
depend on the character and moral impetus of these 
men. He knew that they were mostly adventurers, 
but he never doubted the germ of goodness within. 
He worked among them untiringly, and before they 



816 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

sailed, — they were going by the six months' voyage 
round the Horn, — he persuaded them to elect a chap- 
lain, determine on daily prayers on shipboard, and 
take the nominal position at least of a God-fearing 
body. The American Bible Society and the New 
York Bible and Common Prayer Book Society were 
brought into requisition to enable him to make dis- 
tribution to every man of a Bible and, to every one 
that desired it, a Prayer Book. This distribution 
was made the occasion of a farewell address, which, 
at the request of the officers, was printed and dis- 
tributed among the men as a memento of home, for 
California was then a terra incognita, and felt to be, 
as it really was, very far away. The address was 
earnest and powerful throughout, and in parts, as in 
the following, rises to eloquence : — 

" Even while I thus speak do I see her, the ven- 
erable Genius of our Anglo-Saxon land, the common 
mother of us all. I see her rise up from her watery 
throne, where she sits embosomed amid the peaceful 
fleets of an unbounded commerce, to bid you, her 
armed sons, farewell. I see her followed in dim pro- 
cession by a long train of patriots, and heroes, and 
Christian men, — men who not only here but in older 
lands have toiled and fought and bled, not for con- 
quest, but for right ; not for license, but for law, and 
that they might build up for posterity that which we 
here enjoy, a fair and, I trust, an enduring fabric 
of constitutional freedom. I see her form, I hear 
her words, and mine, believe me, are their faithftd 
echo. 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 817 

" ' Go forth,' she says, ' my well-armed sons — the 
sword in yom* hands, but peace in your hearts, and 
justice in your deeds. Go forth from this, my favored 
land, to bless those to which you go. Remember 
that you bear a widely honored name. It has ever 
been a lineage of faith and virtue, of courage and 
gentleness, of peace, of order, and of religion. Such 
has it been in the Old World ; such in the heroic 
times of the New. Let not its fair fame be tarnished, 
or its institutions defamed by unfilial hands or un- 
worthy tongues. As you bear your country's ensign, 
so, remember, do you your country's honor. Let not 
the name of American citizen ever receive a blot 
through you. Let it not be said, that with Americans, 
might was the measure of right, or that gold out- 
weighed justice, or that the soldier's sword made heavy 
the scale of a vanquished enemy's ransom. Rather let 
that name be known as one of blessing wherever it is 
heard, even as that of a teacher appointed of Heaven 
to instruct the nations of the earth ; to exhibit to the 
world the living proof how liberty may dwell united 
with law, how individual freedom may stand linked 
together with public order, and Christian faith in the 
nation walk hand and hand with an unfettered private 
conscience.' " 

For the interests of the Church in the new terri- 
tory, my father was equally clear-sighted. A letter 
from the quartermaster-general of the army informs 
him that his request has been granted, and that 
free passage will be given to two missionaries for 
California and Oreo-on. If the Church could have 



318 LIFE OF JOHN M<^V1CKAR. 

risen to the duty then pressed upon her, and conse- 
crated a Whipple or a Morris as a bishop for tlie Pa- 
cific slope, and sent him, with two or three mission- 
aries, to plant the good seed in the hearts of the chil- 
dren, and buttress the future Church with the waste 
acres that then surrounded the half-populated towns, 
the churches of California and Oregon might ere this 
have vied with the East in the missionary work of 
the centre of the Continent. 

The following from Bishop Chase, two years after, 
shows how earnestly those efforts were continued, and 
how fully they were appreciated by one who had the 
largest experience in western missions : — 

Robin's Nest, III., March 17, 1849. 
My dear Sir, — Yesterday the " Banner of the 
Cross " reached us here in the far West, and few 
things gave me more pleasure to read, than the report 
of the General Missionary Society on the subject of 
California. Your name as the chairman of that com- 
mittee never before commended itself more to my 
warm approbation, than when I read it in connection 
with the noble stand taken in the body of the report. 
The hearty sincerity of what I now say, I trust will 
be impressed on your mind by a recollection of what 
passed in St. Bartholomew's Church on the subject 
brought forward by you and supported by my feeble 
voice, touching the duty of the Church's extending 
the benefit of our holv relio-ion to the shores of the 
Pacific. You then save me the rio-ht hand of Chris- 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 319 

tian fellowship ; an event ever to be cherished in my 
memory as a pledge of better things to come. 
Your affectionate friend and brother in Christ, 

Philander Chase. 

To the Key. Dr. Mc Vicar. 

My father did at the time what he could. Though 
many a well-tried man might have been willing to 
go as bishop, not from ambition, but because of 
the power it would give him to meet and overcome 
difficulties, one only offered to take the hard and 
depressing position of chaplain to a band of adven- 
turers, and solitary missionary in a new land. And 
if future events have left the stigma of moral weak- 
ness, in the desertion of his sacred callino- for a more 
gainfiil pursuit, upon the name of J. M. Leavenworth, 
it may still be a question, whether the Church, which 
allowed him to go single-handed into such a perilous 
contest, must not be willing to assume her share in 
the guilt of his fall. His first letter after arriving 
would seem to show that then, at least, he had good 
intentions and a clear head. I give it entire : — 

San Francisco, May 24, 1847. 
Rev. and deak Sir, — A good Providence per- 
mits me to announce my safe arrival and prosperous 
beginning — when I can give my whole time to the 
duties of my holy calling. The Church will be well 
planted in Sonora, San Francisco, Puebla, and Mon- 
terey, with ample lands, and soon missionaries will 
be called for. Oregon calls aloud. Experiments 



320 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. 

have well prepared the way for the Church. "Will 
the Church at home send $1,000 the current year to 
California? If so, whether for salary or donation 
for churches, it will do what $20,000 will be required 
for in three years from this. There is no way of 
locating lands in and near villages (future cities), but 
by extinguishing titles now Mexican. Soon it can- 
not be bought. Under sound advice I can do great 
things for the Church during the year. In the name 
of my Master, I ask of Churches to come to his help. 
Respectfully and very truly yours, 

J. M. Leavenworth. 
Eev, John McVickar, D. D. 

P. S. — I have organized a Sunday-school in San 
Francisco, and wait on God's good providence to sus- 
tain me and send me help. I am alone, yet confident. 
The courier for Monterey waits, leaving unexpect- 
edly early, and I can only say I am sincerely and 
truly yours, J. M. L. 

The removal of the " Depot " from Governor's 
to Bedloe's Island in 1850, was very embarrassing 
to the chaplain. His duties went with the Depot, and 
required him to go several miles further down the 
bay in open barges to Bedloe's Island, while his heart 
was with the little church he had built, and the per- 
manent interests that had gathered round it on Gov- 
ernor's Island. As was his custom, however, he 
undertook the new duty with zeal, but did not let 
go of the old. A daughter writing from home shortly 
after the change, savs, — 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 321 

" Father's return in safety from one or other of 
his islands each Sunday afternoon always appears to 
me a new and abundant source of gratitude, for he 
seems to spare himself no duty, and fear no per- 
sonal exposure at a time of life when so many think 
that the call for exertion is over. His zeal in his 
missionary work, ' grows with what it feeds upon,' 
and whereas he says, formerly he was content with 
one jewel, now he has two, and he could not tell if 
called upon to give up one, which would be the dear- 
est. Never, he says, did the church look more 
beautiful, nor the men work for it with a more 
loving zeal, and yet there is a daily prospect that 
every one of them may be ordered off." 

In his public ministrations as a clergyman, in 
these chaplaincy duties, my father was effective, and 
always acceptable. His manner was dignified yet 
simple, his offering of the prayers reverential, and 
his reading of the Scriptures perfectly natural and 
effective. There were probably few better readers 
in the diocese. In the pulpit he had the rare gift 
of always adapting himself to his hearers and his 
occasion, and seldom failed to awaken sympathy 
of feeling. As a general rule, his sermons at this 
time, were extempore, though not always. Latterly, 
however, they became entirely so from increased 
nearness of sight, and the impossibility of reading 
his own much interlined manuscripts. From a ser- 
mon on the Fourth of July, 1846, I take the follow- 
ing as an example of this adaptation of subject to 

21 



322 LIFE OF JOHN BfCVICKAR 

occasion, as well as because it embodies interesting 
personal recollections of Governor Jay. 

" Of the pure and self-denying character of Jay, 
could I speak more largely than time here admits, for 
I saw him intimately during many of his closing years. 
Suffice it to say the patriotism of Jay was the patriot- 
ism of a Christian. He knew but one law of right — 
that was the Gospel. He acknowledged but one 
teacher, one ruler — that was Christ, his Master in 
heaven, speaking in His Word and through his con- 
science. Out of this faith, as from a fountain-head, 
sprang all the virtues of his character. As he truly 
feared God, so did he fear nothing else. He never 
feared the face of man, nor did he the frown of power, 
nor the proscription of party. He set his course, and 
that was heavenward, and then bade the world go by. 
Therefore was it that his patriotism stood like a rock, 
against which the waves of popular opinion beat as 
idly, throughout the course of his life, as had done 
the threats of unjust power at its beginning. There- 
fore, too, was his old age a peaceful and blessed one, 
not like that of too many, clinging on to public life till 
finally driven from it by younger and stronger hands ; 
nor like others, retiring gloomily from scenes of pub- 
lic excitement, — but, like one who had been the 
Christian first, and the statesman afterwards, he re- 
tired the Christian, who, having fulfilled one task to 
which his God had called him, passes on to another, 
willingly, cheerfully, as following the same great lead- 
er ; and that task was to him, as it should be to all, 
in the peaceful retirement of a Christian home, to 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 323 

prepare liimself for the new and higher duties on 
which we may not doubt he has now entered. 

" How deeply our country now needs more such 
rulers and more such examples, to keep us citizens 
of a later day up to its earlier heroic tone, it becomes 
not me to say ; but this at any rate is clear, that to 
remember we once had such pure and great men, 
and that they were the men by whom, under God, 
that national blessing was achieved which we have 
just celebrated, this cannot be a valueless recollec- 
tion at any time, nor an unsuitable one now to be 
urged from a Christian pulpit." 

Of his ministrations among the sick, it is sufficient 
to say that he was faithful, and never allowed personal 
fear, and seldom personal weariness, to interpose a 
barrier. When the cholera was raging on the island 
in 1849, he writes to an absent member of his family: 

" Dr. I was with last night, who, both for his 

OAvn sake and that of his family, is very dear to 
me. I am afraid we shall lose him. It has termi- 
nated in cholera, which has carried off so many. I 
shall return after breakfast to a sorrowing, perhaps 
desolate house, but God's will be done. It is pain- 
ful beyond measure to lose, as I do, the mourners 
also, by their removal from my care and sym- 
pathy." 

As I copy these lines, evidently written before 
breakfast, after an anxious night's visitation, and tell- 
ing of the simple way in which the chaplain went in 
and out among his cholera sick, I am forcibly re- 
minded of his devoted successor in the chaplaincy, 



324 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

the Rev. Alexander Davidson, who has but just laid 
down his young life, a sacrifice to the same sense of 
duty, as he went in and out among the sick soldiers, 
during the late prevalence of yellow fever on the 
island. His record as given by his commanding offi- 
cer is a very noble one, and if imagination might be 
allowed to picture choice meetings in the spirit world, 
it would find here congenial material. 

Many letters show the personal interest which my 
father took in the new recruits, especially those who 
had seen better days, and who, by misfortune or 
wrong-doing, had been induced to enlist in the army. 
Several, so situated, were through his influence at 
Washington freed from their enlistment and restored 
to their friends. Foreigners also, who could neither 
speak nor write English, but who were well educated, 
and who from necessity had been forced to enlist, 
often found in the Latin tongue a means of com- 
munication which must have been to them a great 
comfort. From several such preserved, written 
generally on mere scraps of paper, suggestive of the 
entire literary privation of the recruit's life, I tran- 
scribe the following : — 

DoMiNE Pastor, — Quod tibi scribo, excusa me. 
Te rogare volui, ut tibi curam haberes pro me. Ma- 
jorem optare, ut me in Partem Permanentem trans- 
ferret. Simul curriculum vitge meae tibi refero, ut 
de me judicare possis. 

Filius pastoris, primarii Magdeburgiensis sum. In 
prima classe Gymnasii Latini Halberstadiensis ver- 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 325 

satus sura. Postea quinque annos mercator fui, in- 
quibus Collegium Carolinuni Brunoswigii visitavi. 
Capitanus in bello Danico fui, et infelix fortuha poli- 
ticio me in banc partem mundi transtulit. 

Non amicum, qui me novit, habeo. Rogo ut tu 
meum optatum audias. 

Carolus Arminius Thryhsson. 

The " permanent party " referred to in the above 
was the permanent garrison of the island, the mem- 
bers of which were not liable to be sent to distant 
posts, and had other privileges. Only the best men 
were put upon it, and it was considered an honor as 
well as an advantage to belono; to it. 

These chaplaincy duties, running over a period of 
eighteen years, having commenced with one war, 
were destined to terminate with another. My father's 
feelings with regard to the War of the Rebellion are 
well expressed in the following few lines of a home 
letter : — 

" April 17, 1861. — Our April has been stormy, 
but less so than our national affairs. It is a crisis I 
could never have believed in, and even now can 
scarcely realize ; but it alters not our rule of life — 
duty and Christian hope. When earth is dark, we 
must look to Heaven for light. Civil war is upon us. 
It might, perhaps, have been avoided, but must now 
be met, and the Federal government supported at all 
hazards and any cost. We must now conquer peace. 
The interval, long or short, will be one of trials and 
self-denials such as we have not been accustomed to, 



326 LIFE OF JOHN 3£CVICKAR. 

but, with a brave heart and God's blessing, we shall 
go through them." 

The following, on the same subject, and of about 
the same date, is from one between whom and my 
father there had grown up a warm attachment ; and 
the only justification offered for thus making public 
a private letter, without the writer's leave, is, that by 
his deeds and worth, he has allowed his name and 
all that concerns it to become public property : — 

Ckesson Springs, Pa., July 22, 1861. 
My dear Doctor, — Having a leisure moment 
to-day I thought that I would write to you a few 

lines The telegram this morning reports a 

great battle at and in the vicinity of Manassas Junc- 
tion. I am very anxious to hear the result. I fear 
that, in consequence of our having so few disciplined 
troops, and so many officers who have had no experi- 
•ence, our losses will be very great. I feel that this 
matter has been forced upon us — the firing upon my 
little band at Fort Sumter opened a war frotti which 
our government could not withdraw. Only one 
course is now left for us, to meet all the responsibili- 
ties as becomes Christians and soldiers. That this 
civil strife will be attended with incidents which will 
sadden and sicken the firmest hearts, none who know 
the decided and sternly bitter determination of our 
Southern enemies, can doubt. I feel, and acknowl- 
edge too, that as a people, we have far forgotten our 
God, and that we have justly incurred his wrath. 
Let us pray that He will be, as He has ever shown 



CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 327 

Himself, merciful to us, and that He will soon bring 
hope and peace and love to our land again. Mrs. 
Anderson joins me in sincerest and warmest re- 
gards. 

Ever yours truly, 

Robert Anderson. 

Rev. John McVickar, D. D., Chaplain U. S. A., New York. 

The chaplain early asked and obtained permission 
to visit and minister to the Southern prisoners who 
were confined on the Island, and in the harbor of 
New York ; and I judge by the many letters of 
thanks from friends and interested persons that the 
duty must have been kindly and faithfully performed. 
Bishop Whittingham, writing on the 18th of Septem- 
ber, 1861, says : — 

" My dear Doctor, — I was greatly pleased to 
find how thoroughly you had anticipated all that I 
wished to ask you in behalf of the erring men who 
are now prisoners in the port of New York. For the 
kind way in which you meet my interference, and 
the loving words in which you express yourself con- 
cerning it, I can only thank you with heartiest returns 
of grateful affection." 

On the 10th of September, 1862, a communication 
was received from the commanding officer of the post, 
in obedience to the new regulations of the War De- 
partment, requiring of the chaplain residence on the 
Island. It was one of the necessary changes in point 



328 LIFE OF JOHN MGVICKAR. 

of strictness required by war times, but to mj father 
it came as a sort of death-blow. His varied duties 
in New York city forbade his living out of it, and he 
combated the order in every possible way, for his 
heart was in his work among the soldiers, and though 
in his seventy-fourth year he was not feeling old. I 
have before me a paper in his handwriting, and 
drawn up in legal form, entitled " Grounds for Re- 
lief," etc., giving under heads -the various, and many 
of them strong reasons, why this order should not be 
binding in his case. But the War Department had 
no time then to be looking into exceptional cases, con- 
sequently, when the order was repeated, my father 
resigned, and the last settled ministerial work of his 
life was brought to a close. 

What was grief to him was secret joy to his family 
and friends. They saw no prospect of voluntary 
resignation on his part, yet they had felt for some 
time that his age, and the value of his experience as a 
counselor in the Church, made it important that this 
duty of great exposure and hazard should be given 
up. It was therefore looked at by them as a kind 
providence, and my father soon came to acquiesce in 
the view, settling, in its own way, a difficult problem. 
Thus ended a phase in my father's life which stood 
out with a distinctness that made it almost look like 
the work of another man, and suggested that sepa- 
rate treatment which requires us now to take up 
again the thread of his ordinary life, eighteen years 
previous. 



CHAPTER XX. 

COLLEGE VIEWS : 1840-1850. 

rpHE requirements of the invalid daughter, of 
-'■• whom mention has been made, led to the giv- 
ing up of the Turin farm, as too far away, and the 
pui'chase of a small place on Staten Island. It was a 
comfort so far as it gave pleasure and enjoyment to the 
sick one, but beyond that it never went. Tliis place 
never was a home, and after a few years, when the 
suflPerer for whose gratification it had been purchased 
went to her rest, it was parted with without regret. 
The interests as well as duties of these years, from 
1840 on to 1850, centred in the college and flowed 
out to the chaplaincy and Church societies. There 
was no lack of interest, however, in general matters, 
as evidenced by various articles in the current press, 
over the familiar signature of " M." To show how 
very familiar it was, and, consequently, how ready as 
a writer was my father in all the live interests of his 
day, I venture to quote the following jeu cCesprit 
from the " Churchman : " — 

Mr. Editor, — Having been comphmented more 
than once since the appearance of the last " Church- 
man," by some friends who know my signature, on 



330 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAE. 

my change to liberal Loiv-church principles, it has 
forced so strongly on my mind the inconvenience 
resulting, at least to the writers themselves, from 
there being two contributors to the same paper 
under the same signature, that I have determined 
to trouble you and my namesake, " M.," with this 
notice of it. Hitherto, I am willing thankfully to 
acknowledge that the balance of divided merit arising 
from a common name has been greatly in my favor, 
inasmuch as it has been the means of gaining me 
credit with my friends, not only for many zealouS and 
good articles which I did not write, but also for much 
poetry that I could not have written, the reputation 
of which, with the usual inconsistency of man, inas- 
much as nature has denied me the faculty, I prize, 
even more, perhaps, than it deserves. But be that 
as it may, now that it has come to doctrine, that, I 
confess, is a nicer matter, and, as I can, to use a 
cant phrase, " pin my faith on no man's sleeve," I 
now feel myself forced, however unwillingly, thus 
publicly to renounce all claim to the aforesaid poetry, 
and to state that I am unwilling to undertake the 
responsibility of my brother M.'s Church opinions, as 
he doubtless has long been of my metaphysical lucu- 
brations ; and if a mere personal question like this 
were worth the trouble I would request you to decide 
between us the priority of use, in order that one or 
the other might recede. As the world of letters lies 
free before us where to choose, the losg, on whichever 
side it fall, may be easily supplied ; and the poet com- 
forts us with the assurance that "the rose by any 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 331 

other name would smell as sweet." Much, therefore, 
as I feel attached to my accustomed letter, inasmuch 
as it seems to me like an old friend, and indeed to 
an anonymous writer may be said to be his only one, 
yet, valuing, as I do, the substance above the shadow, 
and consistency of opinion beyond consistency of sig- 
nature, I hereby promise to abide contented by your 
decision ; and if you say so this is the last time you 
will be troubled with communications fi'om the 

M., NOT or LAST WEEK. 

The next week appeared the following from the 
editor : — 

" We say. No. Our present correspondent has a 
right to the signature, first, by priority, secondly from 
its aptitude, as an initial letter, to express the subjects 
on which he is accustomed to write. 'M., not of last 
week,' is already known to our readers as the success- 
ful opponent of Coleridge, by which we do not mean, 
as was rather illogically argued at the time, that he 
is the follower of Locke. In that controversy he vin- 
dicated his claim to the department of ilTetaphysics. 
As a metaphysician, his peculiar province is, of 
course, the first principles of itfind and MaXiev. It 
is also no secret that ' M.' is anything but a novice 
in moral philosophy, and we must, therefore, count 
J/brals as one of his rightful subjects. It was the 
same ' M.' who introduced to our readers the trea- 
tise of Dr. Chalmers on Political Economy in 
connection with the iUfbral state and itforal pros- 
pects of society, of which treatise, as we remember, 



332 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

iJ:/arriage and Jibney are the chief topics ; two more 
articles of mental property which ' M.' may plead in 
defense of exclusive right to his signature. More- 
over the same 'M.' — we hope we are not betraying 
secrets — has erected iUfbnuments, and may each he 
cere ■ perennius ! to the memory of deceased wor- 
thies ; and if we were disposed to stand on trifles, we 
might add, that one of these worthies was an M. D., 
another a ilSfinister, and the third a i)!f instrel. Where 
rival claims are to be adjusted, it were invidious to 
speak of Merit ; but leaving it out of the question, 
and malgre all the counter claims that can be set up 
by other competitors — for it seems there have been 
several on the ground of itZusic, or the ilfuses, or 
iUfoderation, in Church principles, or iliysticism, or 
any other ilfay-be ilfatters, we think we have shown 
ample reason for requesting all other aspirants to 
recede, and leave our present correspondent in sole 
possession of the signature ' M.' . To a superficial 
observer the instances adduced may seem an acci- 
dental alliteration, and of no weight in argument. 
But the profound thinker, who is not deluded by 
outward phantasms, but penetrates into the essences 
of things, will be of a different opinion. He well 
knows, however fashionable it may be in modern 
times to sneer at cabalistic lore, that letters have 
secret affinities which are necessarily expressive of 
real properties. Such a mind would be easily able 
to trace the letter ' M.' from its origin in the primi- 
tive language through all its ramifications, from the 
confusion of Babel to the worse confusion of Edward 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 333 

Irving, and show that it has an inherent and neces- 
sary aptitude to express, not only the favorite sub- 
jects, but the essential character of our correspondent. 
And now, having thus shown that the said corre- 
spondent has an exclusive right both by prescription 
and in rerum naturd, to the said signature, we hope 
that no one in future will venture to dispute his nom- 
inal property, or call in question our editorial decis- 
sion. The present ' M.,' we repeat, is the true ' M.,' 
and his rivals, in common with all their fellow 
J/ortals, must search for secret affinities in their 
appropriate iltfotto, memento moriy 

In the year 1845, the Annual Convention of the 
Diocese of New York met under the most trying 
and exciting circumstances. Without consent or 
concurrence on the part of the diocese, foreign 
bishops had come in, presented, tried, convicted, and 
sentenced to indefinite suspension, the Bishop of 
New York. This was as much a sentence of sus- 
pension laid upon the diocese, as it was upon the 
Bishop. Hence, placing the result alongside of 
the manner in which it was attained, it was thought 
by many that envy of the growing power of the 
Diocese of New York, together with a dislike of her 
decided Churchmanship, had had somewhat to do, 
at least, in shaping the sentence. The consequence 
was a convention of unusual length and of sharp 
and stormy debate. My father was a member of 
it, though entering but little into its embittered dis- 
cussions. Once only, at any length, was his voice 
heard, and then his words were so characteristic of 



334 LIFE OF JOHN M^VTCKAR. 

the bold and clear consistency, yet humble depend- 
ence upon a higher power, of his character, that I 
shall make no excuse for inserting them here. It 
was towards the close of the session that he rose to 
speak to a compromise resolution. 

" The Rev. Dr. McVickar said he rose to oppose 
it. It was not what it purported to be, — a true 
measure of peace. It sought agreement by a union 
of inconsistencies. It asserts in the preamble what 
it denies in the body of the resolution, and woujd 
build up with one hand what it pulls down with the 
other. Such action is unworthy of the wisdom of 
the Church, and would prove utterly valueless for 
the end it purports to seek. Whether I look at it in 
my place as a legislator, or in my relations as a pres- 
byter of the Church, I can find in it no one ground 
either for confidence or approbation. 

" As a legislative act it is wanting in any quality to 
recommend it. It is inconsistent with itself, contra- 
dictory to the past action of the house, and, besides, 
worthless as being but an expression of opinion in a 
matter beyond our jurisdiction. It reasserts, as an 
admitted fact, what the house has just negatived — 
and would smuggle into a preamble what, by a de- 
cisive vote on Saturday last, was rejected as a reso- 
lution. This, Mr. President, is neither fair, wise, 
nor prudent, — and, speaking for one, I will not con- 
sent to spread upon our minutes, action thus stamped 
at once with inconsistency and feebleness. As a legis- 
lator of the Church I stand on this ground. I will 
keep within my constitutional powers. I will not go 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 335 

beyond them. I will not spread ' words ' upon its 
journal. But speaking as a presbyter of the Church 
I have other objections. It trespasses on matters 
with which we, as a convention, have nothing to do. 
And here, Mr. President, as others have defined 
their position, permit me to say a word touching 
mine. Withdrawn from parochial charge, and thus 
separated from the more public duties of the min- 
istry, I yet hold myself severed from no duty or in- 
terest of the Church or diocese ; and in my humbler 
sphere have labored, at least faithfully, to advance 
them. Unconnected, therefore, with the laity of the 
Church, I claim to speak forth equally with others, 
an unbiased clerical opinion. It has, at least, this 
merit, — no man, no body of men, no public opinion ■ 
has influenced it. 

" It is this. I desire to look and do look at the sen- 
tence on our Bishop, and the consequent desolation 
of the diocese, in the light of a spiritual judgment 
on us all ; I would humble myself under it, and not 
sit in judgment on it — on those who moved in it, or 
on those who adjudged it ; they have their own ac- 
count to render and their own answer to give. For 
myself, silence and submission towards that sentence 
are my only duties, and I would await in penitence 
and prayer, yea, even in sackcloth and ashes, the 
removal of God's heavy hand from off us. That 
these may not be taken for mere words, permit me 
to add, Mr. President, that the published records of 
that trial, sent to me, I never have read, and, God 
help me, never will. For why, I argued, should I 



336 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

stain my mind with sinful words, beyond its own 
native sinfulness, when by no possibility I can ever 
be called on to sit in judgment on my Bishop, or to 
review the judgment of the court that condemned 
him. Such, Mr. President, has been my view of 
this question. Had my voice prevailed, it would 
have been so marked by an early action in the Stand- 
ing Committee of the diocese. A day of fasting or 
an appropriate form of prayer would, from the first, 
have converted this into a spiritual question and 
brought us all upon our knees for our own sins." 

My father's subsequent course was in strict accord 
with what he then said. The record of the trial lay 
upon his table for a long time. I remember well 
seeing it there, sealed with his own coat of arms, and 
indorsed in his own bold hand, " Never opened. To 
be returned ; " and he continued from that time to 
visit Bishop Onderdonk regularly up to the time of 
his death, seventeen years afterwards, five or six 
times a year, as one in affliction. And this he could 
well do, knowing only that he was indefinitely sus- 
pended from the performance of his episcopal duties. 
This begat a strong feeling of affection on the part 
of the humbled Bishop, and, in Dr. Seabury's ac- 
count of his last communion, he says, " His family 
were all present, and the only thing that at all dis- 
turbed him was the absence, through a mistake, of 
the two friends, Dr. McVickar and Dr. S. R. John- 
son, whom he had desired should have received it 
with him." Two days before his death my father 
saw the Bishop for the last time. In his own words, 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 337 

in a note writen to me at the time, he says, *' As I 
entered I saw that the hand of death was upon him, 
and fearing that I should not see him again, I knelt 
at his bedside and placing his hand upon my head, I 
said, ' Bless me, Bishop.' He evidently understood 
my meaning and faintly murmured the blessing, but 
was unable to converse." 

Of Bishop Onderdonk's guilt on the charges made 
against him, I never heard my father once speak. 
He was much opposed to the publication of the evi- 
dence, and, as has been said, returned his copy 
unopened. He was willing to bow to the authority 
of the court, but ever considered the sentence an 
illegal one, which judgment future legislation con- 
firmed. An earnest friend, he was no partisan, and 
ever counseled that submission which is now consid- 
ered as having so ennobled the Bishop's character. 
In the Standing Committee he was appointed to draw 
up the resolutions upon the Bishop's death. This 
he did, and they were adopted with but a single 
alteration. " Under a judicial sentence believed to 
be of doubtful validity," was changed into " believed 
hy many to be of doubtful validity," on the ground 
taken by Judge Hoifman, that the Standing Com- 
mittee having acted on the ground of its being valid, 
nothing should now be said that could question the 
validity of its own acts. He was invited to preach 
the funeral sermon, but declined. 

A vacancy had twice occuiTed in the presidency of 
Columbia College within the last seven years ; in 
1842, by the resignation of President Duer, on ac- 

22 



338 LIFE OF JOHN Mf^VICKAR. 

count of long illness, and in 1849 through the resig- 
nation of President Moore. On both these occasions 
my father's name had been proposed, but resolutely- 
withdrawn by himself. The dream of twenty years 
before had passed. Writing to a son abroad, Christ- 
mas Day, 1849, he says, " Our college has, as you 
know, a new president. At Mr. King's inauguration 
I was requested by the trustees to address him on 
the part of the Faculty. I was solicited to be a can- 
didate, but declined and would not have accepted an 
office full of annoyance, and one that would have cut 
me off from my little church." Yet there was no de- 
cline of interest. His address was, as usual on such 
occasions, a bold and stirring one, prepared with care, 
and intended mainly to counteract the dependence on 
outside influence which the election of Mr. Charles 
King to the presidency of the college had too much 
suggested. In it he presses with a strong hand the 
necessity of religious training and the impossibility of 
a college, governed from without, ever rising to the 
height of a university. As this is a subject of pres- 
ent interest, I quote a passage bearing on each of 
these points. 

" To ' popularize education,' Mr. President ; to ac- 
commodate college studies to what are deemed the 
practical wants of a business community, is an ex- 
periment, as you well know, that has often been tried 
and as often signally failed, here and elsewhere, at 
home and abroad. Our own partial trial of it, a few 
years since, was perhaps too short to be held a con- 
clusive one. That, however, of the London Univer- 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 339 

sity, as being a thorough trial, may be so regarded. 
. A deeper cause of ill-success for such 
plans must then be found, than want of skill, or 
means ; and do we not find it, I ask, in the very prin- 
ciple which it advocates. Education governed from 
without — this is its root error, Trpwrov i/^euSos. I care 
not from what quarter that dictation comes — from 
the will of rulers, or from the voice of the multitude 

— it is usurpation whencesoever it comes, in the eye 
equally of the scholar, the statesman, and the Chris- 
tian. Education, sir, is a mission from God to man — 
the teacher and not the taught, in the community 

— giving, and not taking impress — moulding, and 
not to be moulded by the mass on which it is sent to 
operate ; so therefore, looking not, as such scheme 
proposes, to what is, but what ought to be, in the 

community Your own education, sir, 

was in schools of another mark — in the schools of 
our ancestral land — where solid learnino-, and labo- 
rious study and careful training — intellectual, moral, 
religious training — is made to lie at the foundation 
of all other attainments in education. I say ' train- 
ing,' sir, in contradistinction to mere imparted knowl- 
edge — not learning merely, not science only, not 
dogmatic opinions at all — but that quiet, solid, un- 
obtrusive ' training ' which constitutes distinctly, An- 
glo-Saxon education, wherever that race is found. In 
my own survey of foreign schools, some years since, 
deeper learning I found in the schools of Germany 

— deeper science in the schools of France, and more 
precocious and vei'satile talent in our own ; but 



840 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

deeper elements of national safety, that best product 
of education, the union of the gentleman, the scholar, 
and the Christian, I found nowhere more truly worked 
out than in the higher schools of England." 

After giving a picture of the English universities, 
he draws the following well-timed inferences : — 

" Now is not this, I ask, a more republican picture 
of education than our own colleges present ? And is 
it not more in accordance with all our boasted dem- 
ocratic institutions and principles ? But what is still 
more to the point, does it not afford an adequate so- 
lution to their possession, and our want of national 
influence and wide-spread patronage ? Does it not 
explain why these universities are part and parcel of 
the life of the nation, while our American colleges 
are found to stand, as they are charged, falsely 
through our negligence, with doing, like dead things, 
amid the living interests of society ; bolstered up by 
laws and patronage from without, instead of a living 
force within ; taking so little hold as they do, on the 
sympathies even of their own alumni, and gathering 
so little as they do, from their subsequent wealth ? Is 
not this the solution ? Think you, sir, such would be 
the case, were their diplomas made title-deeds to an 
estate, giving them an elective franchise in a common 
body, and securing to them the privileges of citizen- 
ship in that republic ? Would their zeal, money, or 
labor, be wanting in our service ? Would libraries, 
apparatus, scholarships, prizes, be asked for, as now, 
in vain ? Surely not ! At the banner cry, ' Columbia 
to the rescue ! ' how would its hosts start to life, like 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 341 

the Scottish chieftahi's warriors, where least thought 
of — ' from copse, and heath, and cairn ' — from the 
plough, and the machine-shop, and the manufactory, 
as well as from the btir, the pulpit, and the desk, to 
aid and strengthen their common home : or, let me 
rather say, speaking as I do, before the first soldier ^ 
of our land, with his laurels fresh upon him, like as 
when on some doubtful field, he has marked a per- 
iled banner, and bade the drums beat, ' To the color ; ' 
how quick, through willing hearts and united hands, 
that failing banner has arisen ! risen higher than be- 
fore, and been borne aloft in the armsi of victory, till 
planted on the highest citadel of fame. So would it 
be — fellow alumni, to you I speak — with our col- 
lege pennon ; none in our land, I well believe, would 
then float higher, or wider, or fairer." 

These were not the mere words of a popular in- 
auguration address ; they were the matured results of 
long reflection based on wide experience, upon the 
practical difficulties which seemed to surround and 
impede the advancing steps of Columbia College. 

The permanent chaplaincy, which is now attached 
to the college, was, I should judge from the follow- 
ing, due very much to Professor McVickar's efforts. 
" Our colleo-e affairs are affain settled. Dr. Moore 
resigned, and Mr. King elected. During the ' inter- 
regnum ' I introduced a short responsive service, and 
although Mr. King does not conform to it, I shall use 
it whenever called on, and thus not improbably, lay 
the foundation for the chaplaincy." 

1 General Scott, lately returned from the conquest of Mexico. 



342 LIFE, OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Many sheets and scraps of paper are now lying be- 
fore me (it was his custom to tear off the blank page 
of notes and letters, and place them in his portfolio 
as a ready receptacle for strky thoughts), closely 
written with reflections and suggestions concerning 
college and other matters. The importarice and 
present interest which surrounds the academic and 
university question justify a few extracts. 

From an outline report on proposed changes in 
college examinations, without date, but not less, prob- 
ably, than thirty years ago, I quote the following : — 

" The point to be attained is the devising such a 
plan, as, while it removes the reproach from those 
naturally dull or inadequately prepared, shall yet pre- 
serve the excitement required to arouse the abler 
students to the highest exertion of their powers. 

" To this end there shall be in the course of the 
year two examinations for honors and one for college 
standing. The first two to be public, semi-annually, 
the latter private at the end of the year. The pub- 
lic examinations for honors to be voluntary. An 
abstract of the roll of standing in relation to every 
student on a printed form prepared for that purpose, 
to be made out subsequently to each examination and 
sent to the parent or guardian of each." 

The following are scraps : — 

" German universities not examples for us. They 
do not undertake to educate. They are mere seats of 
learning, open to all, on payment of special fees. No 
examinations, no care, no note, no report, no knowl- 
edge even of names, no degrees, only certificates. 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 343 

Degrees conferred by government board of examina- 
tion. Those who attend are of riper age, young 
men preparing for professions, namely, theology, law, 
physics, and teaching, for all of which, attendance on 
lectures is a legal, essential condition. The professors 
are appointed by government, and the result of the 
whole system shows, too often, a student's life of wild 
dissipation and infidel principles. 

" The English university is a double System. 

" 1. University with professors and open lectures, 
and examinations for degrees and honors. Governed 
and taught originally by the graduates. 

" 2. Colleges with tutors, daily instruction by them 
in all branches, with private examinations. 

" The complaint has been that the colleges have 
swamped the university. The tutorial system has 
swallowed up the professorial, lowering the degree 
of knowledge acquired by practically throwing all 
branches upon one teacher." 

Under the head of " Sugcrestions as to Columbia 
Colleo;e," I find the followino; : — 

" Necessity of tutors comes from the disparity of 
students in the class. The dull and idle must be 
cared for and yet not retard the majority. Add one 
or more tutors to college faculty, with whom, as a 
penalty for idleness or neglect, students might have 
one or more additional hours, during the week, to 
make up deficiencies. A tutorial in subordination to 
the professorial is the condition of a perfect system. 
A combination of both is essential to a practical uni- 
versity. Our chairs, at present, involve duties both 



344 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAE. 

of professors and tutors. In the sesthetic and intel- 
lectual at least thej should be separated. There are 
sciences of memory and sciences of mind. 

" All true education is self-education. 

" Attendance should be voluntary, or if enforced, 
there should be power to transfer to the tutor. 
Classes, if the attendance is voluntary, may be in- 
definitely large ; if compulsory, small, not over 
twenty or twenty -five. 

" Our present form of public examination not 
suited to the sesthetic and intellectual courses. As 
conducted, they are tests of memory, not of taste or 
judgment. The truest test is by written thes'^s, and, 
in its higher form, maintained against a disputant. 

" The end sought in the sesthetic course is to 
awaken taste and form the critical judgment, not to 
store the memory with dogmatic opinions. 

" The end in the moral and intellectual course is 
training, to settle in the mind great principles of 
truth, and to train the mind to their quick perception, 
and their satisfactory defense. For this, free conver- 
sational lectures is the best form of teaching, com- 
bined with set discussions ; ai^ for public examination, 
written theses, and, if time serve, openly defended. 

" The great difficulty, common to all our colleges, 
is a growing democracy in our homes. Our best 
students are of well ordered families ; our worst are 
often of our first families, over-indulged at home." 

These last lines embody what was a growing grief 
to my father in the latter years of his professorship. 
Neither his subjects nor his ways of imparting knowl- 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 345 

edge were suited to wayward, headstrong boys, much 
less to that ungentleinanly behavior of which he 
sometimes, more latterly than formerly, had to com- 
plain. In the lecture-room he was ever the dignified, 
though courteous gentleman, and expected to rule 
his students not by fear but by eliciting from them a 
like sentiment and behavior. 

Dr. Bethune, writing from Philadelphia, in 1836, 
says : — 

" I cannot deny myself the pleasure, my dear Dr. 
McVickar, of assuring you that I ever retain a most 
gratified sense of your kindness to me when I was 
your cai'eless and wayward pupil. Your instructions 
often recur to my mind, and it is with keen regret 
that I reflect on my abuse of the advantages I then 
enjoyed. To no one so much as yourself am I in- 
debted for any taste for letters." 

Many like words from old pupils are before me. 
One says : — 

" If your intercourse, my dear sir, with the class 
of '63, produced no other effect, it did this, it made 
one member of the class a more thorough gentleman 
than he was before, that is a more gentle man^ 

And Professor Elmendorf of Racine College, Wis- 
consin, writes, in 1868, as follows : — 

" Now that the work at Racine is fully inaugu- 
rated, I am constantly reminded how much we are 
indebted to him who showed us how to think and 
work. This young college, so full of vigor and fresh 
young life, is most truly old Columbia's child. And 
could you be with us for even a short time, it would 



346 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

be very evident to you that the teachings we received 
of old have found their reality and power by reaching 
to very many who never received them from your 
own lips. 

" I found Professor D so fully aware of the 

value of his early training that he had taken every 
occasion to apply it from his own chair. And now 
that the college has assigned to me the same subjects 
of which I heard for the first time in your lecture- 
room, I am made to feel more deeply than ever 
before, the inestimable value not only of the princi- 
ples but of the methods of study and teaching which 
I then acquired." 

I add a few suggestive scraps from the " portfolio 
sweepings " of 1849 : — 

" Three philosophic truths form the basis of re- 
ligion : — 

1. Freedom of Will^ so far as to feel a sense of 
self-condemnation. 

2. Corruption of JSFature, so far as always to fall 
short of what we feel to be right. 

3. S^elp, that comes from prayer." 

"Byron confesses a great truth when in his 'Cain' 
he makes Lucifer say : — 

'"He who bows not to God has bowed to me.' " 

" Many things are above people's understanding, 
but nothing is above their misunderstanding, so we 
must teach all." 

This subject of College Views is well closed by the 
following thoughtful and appreciative estimate of my 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 347 

father as a teacher, from the pen of one of his former 
pupils, Professor Dean of Racine College. And the 
Professor will perhaps not take it amiss if we point 
to himself, as a proof of the truthfulness of that esti- 
mate : — 

" Your father was one who thoroughly subordi- 
nated rhetoric to the purposes of a teacher. While 
using language with singular precision and skill, and 
able, as few apprehended, to evoke its subtlest har- 
monies, making it suggestive, persuasive, and far- 
reaching, he was, nevertheless, not mastered by it. 
The matter of his speech remained ever more 
weighty than its manner. And this fact may, I 
think, with some propriety, be viewed as a kind of 
typical one, or key to his whole mind and character. 
While it was impossible that anything slovenly should 
ever proceed from him, he would, nevertheless, have 
preferred infinitely the appearance of carelessness in 
style to carelessness about the subject-matter. His 
constant advice to young men was, ' Never use lan- 
guage insincerely : never speak, or write, even in 
literary debate, upon the side in which you do not 
believe.' His whole temperament, taste, and habit 
led him always to subordinate, sometimes sternly, 
every doctrine and pretension, every claim, either 
abstract or personal, the charms of style equally with 
the rulings of life, to the simple requirements of truth 
and duty. Well do I remember the force and ear- 
nestness with which at our first appearance before him 
he urged upon our class Pythagoras's definition of 
virtue, rj Ui-s tov Sc'ovtos, ' the habit of duty.' ' Do 



348 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

not rely on heavenly favor, or on compassion to folly, 
or on prudence, on common sense, the old usage and 
main chance of men : nothing can keep you — not 
fate, nor health, nor admirable intellect ; — nothing 
but rectitude only, rectitude forever and ever ! ' 

" Your father's whole teaching might, I think, be 
suitably described by a paraphrase on Wordsworth's 
unsurpassable lines ' To Duty ' — ' stern Daughter 
of the Voice of God.' To this without reserve would 
he trust as the Light to guide and the rod to check, 
to this for victory amid the shock of empty terrors, 
the shield from temptation, the true peace amid hu- 
man strife. 

" It may be worth while to illustrate this peculiarity 
by referring specifically to the different branches of 
his teaching. 

" It was sometimes startling, for instance, to hear 
the unreserved commendation which, in his lectures 
on philosophy, he would occasionally bestow on the 
great heathen teachers. He dismissed almost with 
contempt the objection of those who conceived that 
the necessity of the Christian revelation was dispar- 
aged by the admission of such excellence. He main- 
tained, on the contrary, that Christianity is the perfec- 
tion of all the scattered rays of wisdom among the 
heathen. The study and appreciation of their great 
writers, therefore, he believed would liberalize the 
mind. He did not shrink even from comparing 
Plato's criterion of man's dutv, o/Aoiwo-ts tw dew Kara to 
Svvarov, ' likeness to God according to our ability,' 
with the Christian injunction, ' Be ye perfect, even 
as your Father in heaven is perfect.' 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 849 

" But while listening to such statements, every pupil 
of Professor McVickar was made to feel that they 
accompanied what is too frequently wanting in the 
souls of those who make them, namely, a firm, clear, 
unquestioning grasp of the mysteries of the Faith, 
held with such absolute assurance that no disturbance 
or uneasiness of suspicion could be aroused by the 
acknowledcrment of heathen excellence. All of God's 
rational children, like all of his works, he held to be, 
in their idea and creation, good ; and it was an hab- 
itual remark with him that all systems and institu- 
tions which had exercised an enduring control owed 
this to some element of truth and right in them. 
Nothing simply false, he would say, can have per- 
manent power. This conviction led him invariably 
to seek out what was good in every man and sys- 
tem, to acknowledge it without reserve, and to dwell 
on it with pleasure. This impressed a certain char- 
acter upon his teaching, which all who were under 
him will recognize, — a graceful and effective use of 
commendation, when it was in his power. 

" In his lectures on rhetoric, logic, and assthetics, 
the leading and vital principles of which he grasped 
with singular precision and power, and implanted 
in the mind by brief and pregnant statements, which 
clung to the memory, he was always anxious to have 
the merits of the great classical authorities acknowl- 
edged. In rhetoric, for example, the prevailing bent 
of his mind led him to prefer Aristotle's view of it 
to Cicero's, inasmuch as the analysis of the mind 
and language of man for the purpose of persuading 



350 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

to believe truly and to act rightly, is a nobler thing 
than even the ability to express all knowledge with 
correctness. So in aesthetics, he referred the spirit- 
ual theory, which he regarded as the true key to the 
subject, to the ancient Platonic conception of the 
unity of the first good and the first fair. This 
theory raises beauty as it were from earth to heaven. 
It directs us for study, not so much to the intellect 
or senses, as to the spiritual nature of man ; and thus 
makes aesthetics, instead of trivial or trifling, to be- 
come one of the most ennobling of all studies for 
training, and for sinking deeply into the character. 

" The unity of Professor McVickar's teaching was 
felt even where he passed into the very different 
spheres of history and political economy. His judg- 
ments of individual character were a vivid and 
picturesque illustration of his abstract principles. 
No one could expose with a calmer disdain the pre- 
tense and tinsel of many a popular reputation as he 
put his finger on the fatal taint of baseness or interest 
in it. Every one of his pupils will remember the en- 
thusiasm with which he was wont to quote Sir Philip 
Sidney's definition of the gentleman, ' High thoughts 
seated in a heart of courtesy.' On such names and 
pregnant phrases he delighted to dwell when he 
treated of the last and highest view of history, as 
' Philosophy teaching by examples ; ' in other words, 
history with its lessons, moral, prudential, and Chris- 
tian. 

" If he had rendered no other service to political 
economy, — a science whose early principles he had 



COLLEGE VIEWS. 351 

grasped with hardly equaled precision and clearness, 
— he deserves perpetual gratitude for the emphasis 
and effect with which he corrected the error, given 
currency under several eminent names, and among 
others that of McCulloch, who had confined political 
wealth to material productions, thus excluding all 
consideration of the influence exercised upon national 
prosperity by science and professional labors. We 
might say with truth that the Professor's own career 
was the most solid refutation of this fallacy. It is 
difficult indeed to estimate by any gauge of this world's 
valuation, the worth and preciousness of such a career. 
The principles for which he nobly and effectively 
battled throughout a protracted life-time, are the very 
salt which preserves human society and its institu- 
tions from corruption and dissolution. They became 
in many a young and enthusiastic heart, where his 
skillful hand well knew how to plant them, the guide 
and stimulus of noble and useful lives, whose regula- 
tive principles were a scorn of baseness, contempt 
for mere expediency, the habit of duty, the enthusi- 
asm which counts it honor to pay life for truth, rev- 
erence for the spiritual and unseen, and, as the support 
and lode-star of all these. Christian faith, received 
with humility, cherished with devotion, modestly yet 
firmly and fearlessly confessed before men." 



CHAPTER XXI. 

CATHEDRAL MISSIONS AND CHURCH BUILDING: 
1850-^1854. 

TN 1850 the New York Ecclesiological Society 
-■- found itself without a president under circum- 
stances which gave good opportunity to its enemies 
to raise the cry of " Romanizing." The vacant 
office was one neither of honor in the Church nor 
emolument, at the same time sufficiently prominent 
to make its occupant a good butt for party arrows. 
In spite of this, and of the fact that neither years nor 
pursuits fitted him for special interest in this society's 
labors, my father, at the request of its members, 
assumed the vacant office of president. He did not 
desire it in any way, but he sympathized most fully 
with that foundation principle of the Ecclesiological 
Society, reverence and love for the house of God, 
according to its motto, " Tabernacula tua quam di- 
lecta." He also — and it was the crown and blessing 
of his declining years — sympathized with young men, 
even in spite of their natural rashness, in all aspira- 
tions aiming at high and noble ends. 

The possible value or use of such a society, might 
seem at the present day questionable. But it must 
be remembered that at that day we could boast of 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 353 

many strange things which this society helped to 
banish. Even a chapel of Trinity, New York, could 
proudly point at that time to a chancel arrangement 
somewhat as follows : About six feet behind the 
chancel rail was a pyramid filling the greater part of 
the chancel and built up as follows. First, two 
square kneeling benches, then the holy table, not 
unlike in size and appearance to a closed card-table, 
with velvet cushion on either end ; then beliiiid, 
rising five or six feet, and spreading its wings both 
ways, a huge reading-desk with folio Bible in the 
centre and folio Prayer-Book on each side, with its 
plethoric velvet cushion swelling over in voluptuous 
folds and garnished with wooden fringes of fantastic 
shapes, and tassels whose shape and huge proportions- 
reminded one of church bells ; above this and still be- 
hind, in true pyramidal effect, the towering pulpit on 
whose desk the traditional fat cushion ao-ain reclined, 
and flung to the air of that upper region its solid' 
fringes and tassels of tunied wood ; and higher still,. 
in unapproachable dignity, the sounding-board with 
its gilded and symbolic decoration. Now people this- 
structure, as it was often seen when at the close of a 
sermon all the clergy would stand, two on the ground 
floor, three in the second story, and one in the pulpit 
above, and you have befoi'e you a specimen of the 
not unusual chancel arrangements at the time when 
the Ecclesiological Society was formed, to awaken 
thought and call attention to better things. Its 
success is written in such churches as St. George's- 
and St. Thomas's, New York, and in the' present 

23 



354 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

improved taste in church architecture throughout the 
country. 

The following from one of the first papers written 
by my father on these subjects will show the tone he 
then took and ever afterwards maintained : — 

" The ecclesiologist should ever have in view a 
higher end than his own science gives him, as indeed 
every true workman must have, whatever his craft. 
. An humble, churchlike spirit, alike quiet 
and earnest, affectionate and faithful, is a true and 
sufficient security. In these we have at once our 
compass, our chart, and our anchor, and, under 
God, need fear no quicksands, either of Rome or 
Geneva. 

" In addition to this general guidance as Church- 
men, the society stands pledged already to certain 
great conservative principles in the science which it 
teaches, which stand forth as landmarks against 
w^andering in church architecture. The following 
may be enumerated as the chief: — 

1. The adoption of the old parish church of Eng- 
land as our present type, with its lengthened nave 
and ample chancel. Aisles if needed; open roof; 
sacristy and south porch ; no gallery ; and with orien- 
tation whenever it may be secured, 

2. Open seats instead of pews, and, so far as may 
be, FREE ; no proprietorship in the house of God. 

3. In church building, rather to erect solidly and 
well, a portion, than the whole slightly. 

4. To seek beauty in proportion rather than in 
material ; for it is not roughness or rudeness that 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 355 

excludes beauty, but false proportion or feeble out- 
line. 

5. To study reality and truth everywhere in the 
building ; no sham, no pretense, no falsehood. 

6. To decorate construction, only, arid never to 
construct decoration. 

7. To repudiate utterly all heathen symbols and 
words of vanity in churches and on monuments, and 
to replace them with Christian forms and words, — 
above all with the cross, that universal emblem of 
our faith. 

8. To have no meanness in the house of God ; 
not wealth at home and poverty there ; but to give 
to God and his house of our best ; remembering who 
hath said, ' Them that honor me will I honor.' " 

But the subject which, above all others in this 
connection interested my father, was cathedrals and 
the cathedral system as essential to the efficiency of 
a missionary church, whether in the metropolis or in 
outlying missions. He fought hard for it in the first 
mission established in California long before this 
society was formed, and now he used his position and 
pen to further it at home. 

" Such then," he says, in concluding a paper on 
the subject, — " such then are cathedrals in their 
essential nature, origin, and uses, — the original of 
dioceses, their spiritual centres ; the primeval cita- 
dels of the Church's strength ; the nursing mothers 
of a thousand parishes ; the primitive council of the 
bishops, aiding and tempering the severity perhaps 
of solitary rule ; the maintaining in the ever open 



356 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

cathedral of the daily services of the Church in all 
their propriety, dignity, and beauty, and that, too, in 
the metropolis of the land ; thus consecrating as it 
were, the state itself under God and Christ; and 
lastly a diocesan home for its clergy, through its 
ample means and liberal endowments affording a 
quiet resting-place and leisure, and libraries for 
training up for the defense and ornament of the 
Church a continued succession of learned clergy, far 
beyond what the daily toil of the parish life admitted. 
Then again, consecrating the learning and the talents 
thus acquired to their highest and noblest uses, the 
glory of God and the salvation of men, under the 
guidance of their own spiritual head, and in accom- 
modation to the varying demands of a growing or 
full diocese." 

The discussion of this subject at the meetings of 
the society and in the pages of the " Ecclesiologist," 
gave occasion to the following remarkable and im- 
portant letter from the present venerable Presiding- 
bishop of the Church, Bishop Smith of Kentucky. 

Diocese of Kentucky, January 19, 1855. 
Rev. and dear Doctor, — As one of the pioneers 
of our beloved Church, earliest commissioned to com- 
mence her great work here in these ends of the 
earth, I have reason to thank you for the kind 
interest you have felt, not to say in me, but cer- 
tainly in my work since the days, long time ago, 
when we used to meet in some of those delightful 
Christian homes in New York, which the hand of 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 357 

death lias long since made desolate 

Hoping that dark days to the Church are over and 
that a brighter morrow is dawning upon us, I hailed 
with singular satisfaction the report in the " Church 
Journal," of the important discussion lately had about 

cathedrals As far as communicating the 

impressions made upon my mind in the course of the 
observation and experience of nearly a quarter of a 
century to you, and through you, to your society, 
may be offering them to the Church for her use and 
benefit, they are quite at your service. It is for this 
purpose I am now writing. 

The first great want I discerned upon coming to 
Kentucky, was the want of indigenous, or at least of 
semi-indigenous clergy. Hence my efforts, in vain, 
for a theological school ; and hence for Shelby Col- 
lege, alas! thus far also in vain, as a feeder to it. 
Twenty years' experience and more, throws us all 
back upon a quasi-cathedral theological school, almost 
in connection with the bishop's family (quite so, ex- 
cept boarding the young men), in a great city or 
near it. 

The next conviction forced upon me was, that the 
bishop's residence could not be off the banks of the 
Ohio, or out of our chief city. And it is quite re- 
markable that the Bishop of Ohio, afterwards, and 
the Bishop of Indiana, now, have acted on the same 
convictions. 

I had not been five years in Louisville before I ob- 
served the disjointed, ineffective, and often fruitless ef- 
forts of the Presbyterians, a verv numerous, wealthy, 



358 LIFE OF JOHN Mf^VICKAR. 

liberal, and therefore powerful body, in all tlieir plans 
for Church extension, education, care of orphans, 
etc. And in a much shorter time, I witnessed the 
singular efficiency and success of the Roman Cath- 
olics, they too removing their see from Bardstown 
to Louisville, by means of their singularly convenient 
Gothic church, for a cathedral, and their close-ribbed 
centralization. 

We are the only Protestant body in a condition to 
avoid the mistakes of the one, and to imitate the wis- 
dom of the other : but yet we do not ! 

Now, as to the features of a plan of a quasi-cathe- 
dral, suited, as it seems to me, to our purposes : — 

1. A parish church to be built, paid for, and sup- 
ported, under all the usual advantages and disadvan- 
tages of a vestry and of the old and almost universal 
pew-system. A church with galleries and sittings for 
fifteen hundred hearers as well as worshippers, with 
what corresponds to Lady Chapel, for Sunday-school, 
Bible class, evening meetings, and winter prayers. 

2. An adjoining residence for the bishop on one 
side, and a rector on the other. A residence for a 
bishop's chaplain or one theological professor, and 
for ten or twelve theological students ; a parish 
school, dormitories for transient clergymen, offices for 
standing committee, Bible, and prayer-book, and 
missionary societies, two or three deacons for sub- 
urban and in-urban missionary work, etc., etc. 

Pray begin in New York or Philadelphia, that we 
may not die without hope of it in this seat of the 
diocese of Your ancient friend, 

B. B. Smith. 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 359 

My father said " amen " to this prayer of his 
friend, the Bishop of Kentucky, but there was little 
more that he could do. Nor is it clear, that those in 
authority even had the power. The large and 
wealthy parishes of our Eastern cities are, practically, 
little bishoprics, whose strong congregationism is not 
pleased with the idea of a mother-church setting an 
example to all, frowning on willfulness, and caring 
for all alike ; while every year makes it more diffi- 
cult to graft upon the full-grown tree that which in 
the order of naturS should have been its stock and 
root. ^ 

As applied to New York city, I find the following 
rough outline of a comprehensive scheme among my 
father's " portfolio sweepings " of this period. 

"In our Diocese of New York, with our vast, half 
heathen city, we hare parishes and extra-parochial 
work, which we may name missionary. The ques- 
tion is, how is this last to be provided for ? I propose 
all such to be the bishop's peculiar charge, either di- 
rect or by appointment, to be known as bishop's parr 
ish, to be seen in a church, and felt in a missionary 
organization, adopting and organizing all voluntary 
societies enffaijed in anv and every branch of mis- 
sionary work, confirming their officers, receiving their 
reports, and giving unity and efficiency to the whole, — 
uniting freedom of action, whether in labor or finan- 
cial means, with church order and episcopal au- 
thority. The Bishop, the fountain-head of spiritual 
authority and discipline ; an organized army of free- 
workers, for Christ and in Christ. A missionary 



360 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

society thus ordered, would soon make our Church 
triumphant through all the waste places of our city 
and its surroundings." 

To an absent son my father writes about this time : 
" The ' Ecclesiologist ' and society give some little 
occupation. Number 8 College Green, must, they 
think, attend to all its concerns, applications for 
books, plans, subscriptions, etc. But honors must be 
paid for, and the president must not complain, and 
the truth is, it has been a pleasure." And again : 
" In spite of our difficulties in the society, prudence 
and perseverance, here as ever, are making headway. 
Bear this as your motto ; it has been mine. If I 
have accomplished anything, it has been, not by 
talent, but by quiet perseverance in what I deemed 
good. The world gets out of one's way, under these 
circumstances, tired out." 

In 1851 occurred the third semi-centennial jubilee 
of " The Society of the Propagation of the Gospel 
in Foreign Parts," the " Venerable Society," as it is 
commonly called in England. A jubilee celebration 
having been determined upon by the English Church 
throughout the United Kingdom and the Colonies, 
the primate, the Archbishop of Canterbury, wrote to 
the Diocese of New York .to request it, and its sister 
dioceses of the United States, to unite. This, so far 
as New York was concerned, was gladly and promptly 
acquiesced in. A grand celebration was deter- 
mined on, to be held in Trinity Church, New York, 
and my father was invited to preach the sermon. 
The discourse was a bold and outspoken one, — • elo- 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 361 

quent in parts, but rather distinguished for the 
straightforward manner in which it dealt with the 
questions of the day, — Romanism and Protestantism, 
the Greek Church, Indian missions, bestowing the 
episcopate upon converted tribes, provincial synods, 
and the like. And all said in a way to stir thought 
and yet not give offense. The service was solemn 
and noble, such as to make one feel the power of the 
simple dignity of our worship when properly per- 
formed, as compared with the ornate formality of the 
Roman and Greek rituals, or the apparent barren 
formalism of Protestant prayers. And when the 
venerable parish of Trinity poured its gold, to the 
amount of three thousand dollars, into its old alms- 
dish, the gift of William and Mary, and oifered it 
upon the altar for the home missions of the diocese, 
and also announced that it had, in thankful consider- 
ation of the jubilee, bestowed an endowment of five 
thousand dollars upon the African missionary bish- 
opric of Cape Palmas, it stirred one's heart to thank- 
fulness to see such noble fruit of former faith. And 
yet many would have been glad to see a more 
thoughtful reading of their own history by this ven- 
erable and wealthy corporation, and part at least of 
their gift invested in land, in the outskirts of this 
flourishing African town, in faith, for some future 
jubilee. 

The summer of 1850 was spent at Croton, on the 
Hudson River. The following lines, from a home 
letter, show the active and social habits which in- 
creasing years had, as yet, made no impression on : 



362 LIFE OF JOHN MGVJCKAR 

" This fine weather has kept me rambling, selecting 
choice spots, building rural cottages, instead of cas- 
tles, and laying the corner-stones of half a dozen 
little country churches. I haA^e perambulated all the 
shore farms between vis and Sing Sing, and visited all 
the chief families." 

A new and sad break in the family circle oc- 
curred this summer in the unexpected death of Mr. 
George Kneeland, my father's only son-in-law, occa- 
sioned by a southern fever contracted in seeking 
health for an invalid wife. This gave rise to the 
purchase of a small place at Morristown for the wid- 
owed and failing daughter with her young family. 
The writer, then just ordained, passed his diaconate 
in the same place as assistant to the rector of St. 
Peter's. In this old-fashioned house, of what was then 
an old-fashioned town, were reunited for a very brief 
period the broken family links. It was a period of 
great peacefulness as we watched the two, the wid- 
owed daughter above mentioned, and a noble-hearted, 
sweet-spirited son, broken down by over devotion to 
missionary work in his sacred calling, and saw them 
gradually detach themselves from earth, and pass 
away almost together, to join the now longer family 
chain in the spirit world. 

I cannot thus chronicle your death, my dear 
brother, without at least a word of passing tribute. 
Eight years my elder, you were to me more than 
brother, you were an example and a spiritual guide, 
one who never failed me when I needed direction, or 
sought advice. And as I now recall vour brief min- 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 863 

istry of six years, divided into its three, almost equal 
periods, — one of health, buoyant as a missionary at 
the north ; one of feebleness, half-hopeful, as a south- 
ern missionary ; and one at home, patiently waiting 
for the end, — I seem able to appreciate, better than 
ever before, the spirit wliich throws its deep and 
lovely life into these few lines of yours : — 

" 'Tis hard to sit by life's fast babbling springs 
And count our joys and hopes, as flow'ry things, 
Which ever grow and creep and rise and twine 
Among the thorny leaves of discipline ; 
But he who'd rise in Christ's self-mastering school, 
Must teach his very heart to beat by rule. 

"H. McV., 1849." 

The return of four orphan grandchildren to the 
family home was an event of considerable impor- 
tance. The once large family had been reduced to 
three, and though my father faithfully acted on his 
iavorite maxim, " Do your duty with a cheerful bold- 
ness," it was not in accordance with human nature, 
however wonderftilly sustained, that this blow upon 
blow of bereavement should not tell both outwardly 
and inwardly. But the presence of youth, even if 
we cannot entirely sympathize with it, — and it was 
only at times that my father did, — is a great renewer. 
It makes its own imperious demand on time and 
thought, and breaks down, rudely perhaps as we 
think, but always for our good, those carefully formed 
habits on which, as years advance, we are wont, un- 
wisely, to set such store. 

The first result of the presence of these children, 
and consequent feeling of responsibility, was the 



364 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

search for a summer comitry-place. This was soon 
found on the banks of the Hudson, adjoining " Sunny- 
side," the seat of Washington Irving, and twenty 
odd miles from New York. Here my father found 
his summer home for the happy years of his remain- 
ing life. This place, called, " Inwood," after his 
early and romantic residence at Hyde Park, though 
now at his children's not at his own suggestion, 
was a choice and lovely spot. And, as one of the 
things in which my father took both pleasure and 
pride, it deserves here a few words of description. 
It consisted of about thirty acres on the wooded 
banks of the Hudson, at the widest point of Tappan 
Zee. A view of three miles across and twenty to 
the north, closed in by the varied outline of the soft- 
ened Highlands, gave it all the charm of an apparent 
lake. But at the same time steamboats, and pro- 
duce-tows with their long lines of barges, and fleets 
of sail, ever passing, added all that life and variety 
belonging to a great river, connecting together the 
interest of farmer and merchant, which seen but not 
heard, as in the present case, harmonizes so pleas- 
antly with the silent activities of nature. The place, 
itself, owing more to nature than to art, was what 
might be called a half-note between the romantic 
and the beautiful. A low, square, stone house, 
with piazza all around, was placed on a tongue of 
level ground between two richly wooded ravines. 
These, uniting below the house, gave some little 
foreground between it and the water. To the east 
the ground, well planted, rose in gradual and undu- 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 365 

latlng slope a quarter of a mile, up to the old Albany 
post-road, which, thanks to Irving and Cooper, still 
holds to its memories of Dutch and English and 
Revolutionary days. 

This spot, though simple, had a charm that was 
universally acknowledged. And often have I heai'd 
Washington Irving himself express his admiration, 
especially when he caught sight of a distant sail at 
the further end of a vista which he had allowed to 
be . opened through his own wood, and which he 
seemed to take as much interest in as if it had been 
done for his oAvn o-ratification. With his kind and 
accomplished neighbor, up to the time of his death, 
my father was on friendly and intimate terms. It was 
but the renewing of an old and early acquaintance, 
and unquestionably added much to the happiness of 
these years. 

But residence of whatever kind, with my father, 
meant for happiness, work also, and especially Church 
work. A note, written before even the family had 
moved up, says, " We will look what can be done at 
Dearman. [The adjoining village now called Irving- 
ton.] I shall purchase, or secure at once, ground 
Tor a school, to be used as, and after a time converted 
into, a church." 

This same year, the writer, having concluded his 
eno-agement at St. Peter's, Morristown, received an 
appointment under Bishop Wainwright, the Provis- 
ional Bishop of New York, as missionaiy fo Dear- 
man and parts adjacent. To this was soon added 
the rectorship of the neighboring parish of Zion 



366 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAB. 

Church, Greenburgi This gave to my father the 
great gratification of having a son, the only one now 
surviving, settled near him, engaged in work which 
he also loved, and in which he was now, as he had 
always been, so glad to cooperate. 

On the 10th of August, 1852, — this was a favorite 
day Avith us for the commencement of any little work 
in which the family were interested, being my father's 
birthday, — the first spadeful of earth was upturned, 
by the youngest grandchild, for the proposed chapel- 
school of St. Barnabas. On the 17th of the same 
month, the corner-stone was laid by the Rev. Dr. 
Creighton, my father delivering the address. He 
had neither the means nor the desire to do this work 
by himself alone, and in this address he says, " It is 
the manifest duty of the residents of this village at 
the present, when land is comparatively cheap, to 
secure the blessings of religion and Christian educa- 
tion, not merely for themselves but for those who 
should come after them, by an endowment in land 
like those in England which have yielded such 
blessed fruits." In this, however, he was but feebly 
seconded, and his own responsibility, about four 
thousand dollars, in a building that cost six, pre- 
vented his doing more himself. By Will, however, 
he left to the successful parish, which now takes the 
place of the modest missionary station of 1852, a 
stone house and near an acre of ground adjoining 
the church, subject to a life lease. And it now re- 
mains to be seen whether the overflowing wealth 
which has since poured into that neighborhood will 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 367 

be stimulated to follow ov simply contented to enjoy 
the fruits of the example then set and the words then 
spoken. There was, certainly, no lack of earnest 
words to accompany these liberal actions. At the 
dedication, which took place on St. Barnabas's Day, 
June 11, 1853, my father preached the sermon, from 
which I quote the following passage : — 

"And that we may look at this question aright, let 
us first deepen our sense of what the act of dedica- 
tion has done for it. The special dedication of aught 
we possess to God, has in it something as beautiful 
and touching, as it is solemn and instructive. We, 
and all that we have, are his ; and as Christians, we 
know and believe that we ourselves are bought with 
a price. This is our general faith. But then this 
solemn, special dedication of a part of the debt, does 
it not become, I ask, an open acknowledgment of the 
whole, so that we can never after behold that thing 
dedicated, without remembering whose we are and 
whom we serve ? God grant such blessing may at- 
tend this humble house thus dedicated, and would to 
God there were more such and better in our land ! — 
consecratincr that overflowing wealth which God is 
pouring into the lap of this people beyond any former 
example. Christianizing our too secular education, 
giving open doors to God's house of prayer, and 
keeping ever in the woi'ld's eye something of which 
man may not say, ' This is mine.' Would it not be a 
blessed thing if this spirit of dedication, springing 
out of self-sacrifice, should grow up and bring forth 
abundant fruit through our wide-spread domain ? 



368 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR 

Would it not be the truest crown of our rejoicnig, 
amid the ten thousand worldly blessings that already 
make our land preeminent among the nations of the 
earth? For, believe me, brethren, nay, believe not 
me, but the voice of History, that without that cor- 
ner-stone of prosperity, our w^ealth is but vanity, and 
our boast of it sin. Our very national freedom be- 
comes insecure, and our wisest political institutions, 
with all their boasted strength, will be found in the 
end to be but like some mighty arch, — an arch of 
empire, 'tis true, and spanning the gulf of anarchy, 
— but then an arch from which the key-stone has 
been removed ; one that will hang together but for a 
time by the frail cement of worldly interests, to be 
crumbling and washed out, day by day, by the trick- 
ling rain of selfish policy, till it sink dishonored, stone 
by stone : or else, it may be hurled into sudden ruin 
in the mad tempest of some unholy popular tumult." 
A vote of thanks from the Board of Trustees of 
Columbia College, dated March 1st, 1852, " for the 
foundation of two annual prizes in the Senior Class, 
by the Reverend Dr. McVickar," show that not at 
Irvington only, but elsewhere and in other spheres 
of duty, was my father acting up to his own teach- 
ing. These prizes were, one for accurate knowledge 
of Patristic Greek, the other for an English essay 
on some subject connected with the evidences of 
Christianity, and both for the encouragement of those 
looking to the sacred ministry as their profession. 
This was soon followed by the foundation of two like 
prizes in the General Theological Seminary ; one of 



CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 369 

these also for scholarship in Greek, the other in Ec- 
clesiastical History, especially in its bearing on the 
independence of the early English Church. In 
both institutions have they already borne important 
fruits. 

24 



CHAPTER XXII. 

CHURCH INTERESTS : 1854-1864. 

XN 1854, Professor McVickar was requested to 
-■- preach the sermon before the Annual Convention 
of the Diocese of New York. A few days before the 
appointed day, Bishop Wainwright, after a short ill- 
ness, was suddenly and unexpectedly taken away. 
This left the diocese without any acting head at a 
time when party questions were running high, and 
threw very considerable responsibility upon the 
preacher who within a few days was to address its 
convention. My father did not often shrink from 
any responsibility that Providence seemed to lay upon 
him, but on this occasion he hesitated. He had al- 
ready written his discourse, which was now useless 
from the entire change of circumstances. The time 
was very limited for the preparation of another, and 
questions of considerable delicacy had to be touched 
upon, especially as to whether a new election should 
be at once entered into. One party, to suit party ends, 
preferred an interregnum, while the other shrunk 
from what might seem indecent haste in filling the 
office of one whose memory was so justly honored ; 
while at the same time, the anomalous position of the 
diocese with a suspended bishop at its head, made 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 371 

it very important that the office of provisional bishop 
should be promptly filled. As my father sat reflect- 
ing on these things, mourning for the departed, for 
Dr. Wainwright had been one of his early friends, 
and even inclined to plead his years in excuse for 
throwing upon some younger man the performance of 
this duty, a text was suggested to him as appropriate 
to the occasion. The effect was instantaneous ; his 
eye lightened, he seemed to see at a glance the treat- 
ment of his subject, and shutting himself up, he 
wrote within the working hours of two days a ser- 
mon which, without offense to any, probably settled 
the question of immediate election. The opening of 
the sermon will best suggest the argument : — 

" Brethren, beloved in the Lord ! — we meet this 
day, in God's house, a chastened and heart-stricken 
people. A thunderbolt hath fallen on our Church's 
path, and we her sons look around and find ourselves 
orphans — orphans, I may say, by a double claim — 
with a yet living father paralyzed — and now our 
only living hope — dead before us. ' Of whom, then, 
may we seek for succor, but of thee, O Lord, who 
for our sins art justly displeased? ' To God's Word 
let us then turn, as Christian men should, amid our 
doubts, for counsel ; under our sorrows, for consola- 
tion ; and we shall there find, as the Christian ever 
does, in his darkest hour, both comfort and guidance, 
so long as he looks but to the actual duties to which 
God's providence is calling him. As a passage suited 
to our needs, and full of holy suggestion, I bring be- 
fore vou these heart-stirring words, which stricken 



372 LIFE OF JOHN M(^VJCKAR. 

Israel heard when their great leader was withdrawn 
from them, — ' Moses my servant is dead ; now, there- 
fore, arise, go over this Jordan, thou and all this peo- 
ple, unto the land which I do give to thee, even to 

the children of Israel.' Joshua i. 2 

" Yes ! Moses is dead. But what follows ? not 
despair, not despondency, not folding of the arms in 
sorrow ; but Faith, and the high active courage which 
springs from Faith. Arise, it says, arise, thou af- 
flicted one, from the earth ; put off from thy head 
sackcloth and ashes ; Moses has but passed before 
thee into the heavenly Canaan. But, as for thee, 
bereavement is to awaken strength, and loss to be 
converted into gain, through that holy alchemy which 
Christ teaches to his suffering servants, and which 
can never be learned but through the religion of 
sorrow. So let it be with us, brethren. The staff 
on which we leaned is broken, and, in breaking, hath 
pierced both heart and hand; but it was broken only 
to plant our feet more firmly on the Rock whereon 
alone they safely rest. For it is when Death hath 
rent the veil ; when gifts of nature, talent, learning, 
human guidance, are all withdrawn, or rather, as now, 
dashed to the ground, that we then see plainly the 
Heavenly Hand that, unseen, was ever guiding hu- 
man instrumentality. The shadows pass, the sub- 
stance remains, and the awakened soul falls back, 
like a startled child, into the arms of its Father —the 
Fountain of all wisdom, the Giver of all good, with- 
out whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy, and 
' who knoweth our necessities before we ask, as well 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 373 

as our Ignorance in asking.' On that Rock, then, 
my afflicted brethren, let us this day stand ; on that 
arm let us rest, but the more firmly, because our hu- 
man props are removed. ' When we are weak, tlien 
are we strong ; ' and to that holy guidance let us this 
day look but the more trustfully and the more loA'ingly, 
because our eyes are blinded with human tears, and 
our hearts weighed down Avith earth ly sorrow, for 
the friend and leader whom God's hand hath taken 
from us. ' Moses is dead,' '•Therefore,' saith God's 
Word, ' be strong.' Note, brethren, that wondrous 
sequence in God's reasoning — ■'•therefore'' — the 
very opposite to all of man's conclusions. ' Ye are 
weak,' therefore be very courageous. ' Ye ai'e 
broken-hearted,' therefore arise to new conquests. 
' jSursum Corda ' is the Church's cry. ' Lift up your 
hearts,' and let every tongue this day answer, ' We 
lifl them up unto the Lord.' " 

In this same spirit was the whole discourse writ- 
ten ; all uncertainty and hesitation Avere now gone, 
and the bold yet conciliatory spirit with which many 
of the Church's wants were touched upon, such as 
" shorter services," " mission organization," " banded 
labor," and " union among Christians," led many to 
urge my father, in spite of his sixty-six years, to allow 
his name to be pressed as a candidate for the vacant 
office. But now, as on a former occasion, he declined ; 
and though a few votes were cast for him, his friends 
knew that he had always been too fearless in his ex- 
pression of opinion to allow of anything approaching 
to general popularity. This was true, not only in 



374 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

convention, but in the many Church societies of 
which he was a member and generally chairman : 
hence, though carrying every one's respect, and even 
the admiration of many, he was never really popular ; 
he was even, I tliink, somewhat feared as a closer 
political economist than trustees liked generally to 
have to deal with. 

With respect to organized banded city mission work, 
his utterances in this sermon were very decided. Re- 
ferring to the history of the missionary associations 
of the English Church in the seventeenth century, to 
the experience of Wesley, and to the judgment of all 
successful missionaries, he says : — 

" As Churchmen, then, brethren, let us not fear to 
adopt what is thus sanctioned, but rather let us take 
shame to ourselves that we have allowed that sword 
of the Church's strength so long to rust in the scab- 
bard ; and as its first field of labor, let us give to it, 
so soon as we have an acting, consecrated head to 
order and arrange it, that living yet dead mass of 
heathen ignorance, wretchedness, and vice lying here 
at our very doors in this great city — a sight that sad- 
dens and sickens the heart of the Churchman as he 
sees and feels the total inadequacy of the Church as 
she now stands, to even meet and measure the evil, 
much less cope with and conquer it. Let, then, I say, 
hands of devoted men be organized under ministerial 
guidance and episcopal supervision, with their own 
rules of voluntary discipline, under whatever name 
they may be known, and with whatever freedom of 
action the necessities of the case may need, and with 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 375 

them let the Church pass over ' this Jordan ' that 
so long has kept us back. In this matter let not fears 
paralyze us ; let not suspicion bar ; let not gold be 
wanting. Hear and believe the words of God to 
Joshua, — ' Have not I commanded thee ? Be strong 
and of a good courage. Be not afi-aid ; neither be 
thou dismayed ; only be thou strong and very cour- 
ageous, for the Lord thy God is with thee whitherso- 
ever thou goest ! ' Let our only fear be, lest we be 
too late to cut oiF from ourselves and our Church, 
that entail of curses which follows duties neglected, 
and a brother's blood crying unto Heaven." 

This sermon had its effect. The objections against 
going into an immediate election were really met and 
answered by the text alone, and when afterwards 
made on the floor of the House, they fell dead. With 
the choice made by the diocese, he was well pleased. 
Writing in the ensuing January to his absent son, 
he says : — 

" With our new bishop, my hopes for the Church 
rise. Last evening I spent with him, together with 
leading members of the Standing Committee, to talk 
over plans. I started that of a great city mission 
with an endowment, and found it was his favorite 
scheme. It was, in truth, the scheme of a primitive 
episcopate, with its church and home, and its fifteen 
or twenty deacons, organized, and working, and living 
with the bishop, and carrying on the true missionary 
work of our heathen babel. He is to draw out his 
plan and talk it over with leading members of Trin- 
ity Parish. It is our ecclesiological picture, and if 
carried out, will be in some measure our work." 



376 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

This meeting, held at the residence of the Rev. 
Dr. Haight, was, at the time, considered an important 
one. Mj father, with mind filled, as we have seen, 
with his idea of an organized Episcopal mission, ex- 
aggerates, perhaps, his share in the discussion on this 
occasion, as the meeting was really called to hear 
the new bishop's own plans upon this verv subject. 
But however this may be, we find him continuing, 
in his persevering way, to work and even hammer 
at it, longing for its accomplishment. Two months 
later, I find a letter from the Bishop of New Jersey, 
in reply to one from him on this subject : — 

EiVERSiDE, March 12, 1855. 

My dear Dr. McVickar, — Your letter needs 
no apology. Nothing of yours ever can. In addi- 
tion to our long friendship, your words come always 
to my mind and heart as words of truth and wisdom 
for the Church : cVea TTTcpoevTa ; words winged with 
love. 

The plan suggested for New York is just as it 
should be. I go with it heart and hand ; whatever I 
can do to promote it shall be done. In Trinity 
Church you have the means, and I trust the will 
to carry it out. 

Give my love, then, to your most excellent pro- 
visional bishop ; say to him that it shall be in my 
prayers that the " Church Home " be set about 
forthwith, and prospered with God's own prosperity. 
It will be the nucleus of great things hereafter. It 
will eventually, I trust, revive and realize the cathe- 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 377 

dral plan and work. Nothing for the souls and bodies 
of sick and sinful men that may not flow from it. To 
me it seems the great thought of the age. Com- 
mended fervently to God, in prayers such as David 
prayed for the peace and prosperity of Jerusalem, 
we cannot doubt of that blessing which is complete 
success. 

Affectionately and faithfully yours, 

G. W. DOANE. 

This note with accompanying documents must 
have been forwarded at once, to the newly conse- 
crated provisional bishop, as the following earnest 
and characteristic letter, dated the 28th of the same 
month, shows : — 

60 Fifth Avenue, 12 o'clock Night, March28, 1855. 

My dear Dr. McVickar, — Returning an hour 
ago from a confirmation in Brooklyn, I found your in- 
teresting package. I was very sorry to have missed 
your call, as I am always sorry to lose the pleasant 
instruction of your words, si sic omnes ! It is a 
comfort to commune with one whose thoughts in- 
stinctively turn to the highest themes. In loftier and 
purer realms will it not be one of the joys of just 
men made perfect, that they can muse together, of 
all that has been and all that is most transporting in 
holiness and goodness, of Him who is the wonder and 
the glory of the universe ? 

Many thanks for your note, and for Bishop D.'s 
note and printed circular, which last I return. I 



378 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

had never before seen the printed suggestions. They 
are characteristic, and well worthy of being pondered. 
If you write again, I beg my thanks and very kind 
regards to him. 

As for the Home, my mind has never wavered as 
to the importance and necessity of the scheme, what- 
ever my doubt may have been as to its probable 
reception with the public. My feeling has been tiiat 
nearly the only hope of the present must be from 
Trinity Church. I have not proceeded more rapidly 
because I was willing that the suggestions thrown out 
should be allowed to work their way a little, as 
leaven, in private, before making a decided move. I 
have felt gratified and cheered to find that you 
have been inclined to advocate the thing in your 
warm and eloquent way. God said to David that he 
did well that it was in his heart to build an house to 
the Lord, even though he was not allowed to build 
it. The thought, the desire was approved and hon- 
ored. Let this be our consolation, and let us not 
despair. There is a pressure upon all spirits at 
thought of the poor and neglected, and God will yet 
draw hearts together for his own work. With kind- 
est love to your. daughters and young people, 
I am ever, my dear Dr. McVickar, 

Most truly and affectionately yours, 

H. POTTEK. 
The Ebv. De. McVickak. 

The above letter seemed to me so beautiful and so 
interesting, both with respect to the little history of 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 379 

this effort to obtain something of a missionary ca- 
thedral system in New York city, as well as showing 
the high and spiritual tone of intercourse between 
such men as my father and Bishop Potter, that I 
ventured to request permission to publish it. This 
permission has been kindly granted in the following 
note, which is here added as throwing light upon the 
former, and showing how fruit has ripened even where 
plans have failed : — 

38 East 22d Street, March 20, 1871. 

My dear Dr. McVickar, — I am very much 
obliged to you for allowing me to look at the note 
to your father, which it seems I wrote in March 
1855, at the house of my ever dear friend, Mr. Robert 
B. Minturn, where I was then staying. I have no 
objection to your printing the note. There is noth- 
ing in it that I feel any desire to change. My interest 
in city mission work with which the " Home " re- 
ferred to was proposed to be connected, is as earnest 
and ever present as it was then. 

The idea of such a Central Mission Home in the 
city, and its uses, I had explained to a small company 
of friends, including, I think, your father, some time 
in the previous winter, 1854-55, at the house of the 
Rev. Dr. Haight. My opinion with regard to the 
value of such a Central Mission Home, if properly 
organized and sustained by proper unity of action, is 
at this hour precisely what it was sixteen years ago. 

Perhaps there is no one subject which I have 
pressed so frequently and so earnestly in my sermons. 



880 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

and in my episcopal addresses to the diocese as the 
great work of " preaching the gospel to the poor." 
And certainly the progress which has been made in 
that work during the last sixteen years has been 
very great. We have yet great deficiencies to sup- 
ply, but it is impossible to compare the Church work 
of this city in reference to the poor, with what it was 
sixteen or eighteen years ago, without feeling that we 
have reason to be thankful to Almighty God for his 
goodness and that we have reason to be encouraged. 
If I have not come before the Church in the city, 
to press the immediate establishment of a Central 
City Mission Home, or if I have not given my sup- 
port to some other plans for prosecuting city mission 
work, it has been because I saw other modes of ad- 
vancing the great cause which we all have at heart, 
that seemed to me to promise, for the present at 
least, more certain and more abundant success. 
I am, my dear Dr. McVickar, 

Very truly and affectionately yours, 

HoKATio Potter. 
To the Eev. Dr. McVickar. 

This interesting letter needs no comment. Any- 
thing like a history of city mission work does not 
come within the present province of the writer. His 
object is attained when he has given a fair statement 
of the origin and growth of this idea of a cathedral 
mission in Professor McVickar's mind, and the way 
in which, from time to time in his long life, he sought 
for it practical demonstration. 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 381 

During the coming year the plan for a " Church 
College and Home for the sons of the Clergy," to be 
engrafted on the chapel school of St. Barnabas, at 
Irvington, was put forth, with liberal offers to the 
diocese of partial endowment. The plan, as a train- 
ing school for the ministry and home for the sons of 
the clergy, was a good one, but it soon became evi- 
dent that the originators of it must be prepared to 
carry the whole burden. This they were not able to 
do ; it was, therefore, wisely dropped, and my father 
soon after interested himself warmly in the almost 
similar effort and plan of his nephew, Mr. John 
Bard, at Annandale. To this Training College of 
St. Stephen's he left by will three thousand dollars 
and a portion of his library, and up to the time of 
his death was a trustee and a warm advocate of its 
interests. How real and how successful this was is 
evident from the following note from Mr. Bard : — 

Annandale, June 13, 1859. 

My dear Uncle, — Very many thanks for the 
warm interest and masterly generalship you have 
shown in our affairs. The handsome way in which 
matters appear before the Church is indeed grati- 
fying. 

I congratulate you on having the opportunity in 
your advancing years of adding to your many other 
acts of devotion this one which seems so full of hope 
of future greatness. And before I relax the grasp 
from this growing child, let me thank you again, and 



382 LIFE OF JOHN MCfJCKAR. 

from the bottom of my heart, for your very valuable 
services in the period of our necessity. 
With kindest love to all, 

I am, my dear Uncle, 

Yours affectionately, 

John Bard. 

This refers to his report to Convention as superin- 
tendent of the " Society for the Promotion of Relig- 
ion and Learning," and to the action of that society 
in favor of the new Training College. 

The year 1857 brought my father to his seventieth 
birthday. This midsummer festival — August 10 — 
was celebrated in old Scotch style, with something 
of a family reunion at his country-seat at Irvington. 
A favorite nephew, unable to be present, writes : 
" May you be spared to us still many years as guide 
and example. I have always looked upon you as 
the head of our clan, and as having kept the standard 
well advanced and shown us the way." But he was 
beginning to feel, somewhat, his age, and this year 
he petitioned the Trustees of Columbia College to re- 
lieve him of some of his duties. The simple record 
in the college catalogue is a very eloquent one as to 
what had been their extent and duration : — 

" John McVickar, S. T. D., appointed 1817 Pro- 
fessor of Moral Philosophy, Rhetoric, and Belles- 
lettres. The subjects of Intellectual Philosophy and 
Political Economy were, in 1818, added to this de- 
partment. In 1857 this chair was subdivided into 
four, namely, the chair of Moral and Intellectual 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 383 

Philosopliy, the chair of Ancient and Modern Liter- 
ature, the chair of History and PoUtical Science, 
and the chair of the Evidences of Natural and Re- 
vealed Religion." To this last my father was now 
appointed, resigning to others the varied duties which 
had been his for forty years, and in which he had 
shown himself, as the resolutions of the board ex- 
press it, " able and faithful." We may indeed won- 
der at the amount of work done when we consider 
him, for this length of time, responsible for two or 
three lectures a day over such a distracting range of 
subjects. 

Rest, hoAvever, did not mean idleness. He was a 
constant visitor, in the way of calls, among friends 
old and new, and the increase of time now at his 
disposal led to the renewing of many old friendships. 
His pen, too, was also kept busy. During this year 
he wrote a short biographical notice to append to the 
sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Cooke at the 
funeral of the two sisters, Mrs. Banyer and Miss 
Jay, daughters of Governor Jay, whose united lives, 
filled with good works, and united deaths, bright with 
faith, had presented, what is so rare but so engaging, 
a family picture of the beauty of holiness. This, 
during the next year, was enlarged into a " memo- 
rial " of one hundred and thirty pages, at the request 
of their brother and his brother-in-law, Mr. William 
Jay, and at the earnest solicitation of the publisher. 
The reasons for its publication are thus briefly set 
forth in the preface : — 

" In the hope, under God's blessing, of extending 



384 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

beyond the limits of tlie circle in which they were 
personally known and loved, the memory of the late 
Mrs. Banyer and Miss Jay, the following brief 
memorial has been prepared, and is now put forth 
with the prayer that it may advance the glory of 
that Saviour in whose name all their alms-deeds were 
done, and through faith in whom they were supported 
under all their trials. Such examples, we all feel, are 
greatly needed, more especially in our age and 
country, where abounding wealth and the habits of 
corresponding self-indulgence are found so often to 
break down the Christian graces of moderation and 
self-denial, and consequently the means of liberal 
charity. God grant that this simple record of the 
reverse may lead many to follow these Christian 
sisters in consecrating worldly wealth to his glory 
who gives it, and unto whom account is to be ren- 
dered for the use of it. With this prayer it is sub- 
mitted." 

With the year 1859 came the one himdred and 
fiftieth anniversary of " Trinity School." This was 
a New York foundation of which my father was a 
trustee, and in which he had been long and practi- 
cally interested. He determined that, for its one 
hundred scholars who were on the foundation, this 
should be a gi'and and long to be remembered day. 
And in this, aided by his brother trustees and the 
liberality of Trinity Parish, he was quite successful. 
The anniversary was held in Trinity Chapel, the late 
venerable rector of Trinity, Dr. Berrian, presiding. 
My father "preached the sermon, and, as chairman 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 385 

of the school committee, distributed the memorial 
prizes. It was a sight of no ordinary interest to see 
him there, in his ripe but vigorous age, at the foot 
of the chancel steps, surrounded by these hundred 
youthful forms with their expectant faces, and to hear 
the impressive sentences Avith which to each different 
class he made the formal present-ation. To the first 
and second with the Greek Testament, he said, — 
" Receive the Word of God, the revelation of Jesus 
Christ, in that original tongue in which, under the 
guidance of the Spirit, it was indited. Receive it,. 
value it, study it, guard it ; the record of this day, 
and of your Christian duty." To the third, — " To 
each of you is presented, in remembrance of this day, 
a copy of the Book of Common Prayer ; next to 
God's Word, the most valued heritage of Churchmen; 
the Church's best bulwark against every error of 
doctrine, and every corruption of its pure, primitive, 
and Apostolic worship." To the fourth class he 
said, — " We give, on this day, in remembrance of 
it, to each of you, this Christian History of Greece ; 
a history of the land, whose language is that of the 
gospel, and whose literature is the ornament of the 
scholar, — the land, too, where St. Paul founded 
churches and consecrated bishops, before boastful 
Rome possessed either." And to the fifth class he 
said, — " Receive each of you at our hands, in re- 
membrance of this day, the record of a good man's 
life, the Biography of Bishop Ken ; a name dear to 
the Church and reverenced wherever heard. His 
morning and evening songs are consecrated in the 

25 



386 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

hearts and memory of Churchmen. Study his hfe 
and follow his example." 

From the sermon preached on this occasion I feel 
impelled to quote what was probably his last public 
appeal for what he had so often pressed, individual 
endowments in the matter of religion and education. 

" The endowments of religion and education, not 
by the state, but by individuals, whether kings or 
otherwise, has been to nations that fully adopted it, 
the strong arm, even in this world's arena. In which 
result let our Church and country read a lesson writ- 
ten for it by the hand, not of man's wisdom but of 
God's providence ; showing how the present genera- 
tion, in our far-spread and thinly-peopled land, with 
but little personal sacrifice, but with much prospective 
wisdom, — the wisdom that becomes alike the states- 
man and the Christian, — may, by landed endowment, 
now make blessed provision for their children and 
their children's children, to a hundred generations ; 
securing to them and to their land, learning and 
liberty and pure religion. In this matter take the 
Christian poet's advice and warning : — 

" ' ! while thou yet hast room, fair, fruitful land. 
Ere war and want have stained thy virgin sod ; 
Mark thee a place on high, a glorious stand, 
Where truth her sign may make o'er forest, lake, and strand. ' 

" Of such prospective wisdom, the early endowment 
of Trinity Church is one of the few specimens our 
country exhibits, and may be fairly taken as a test of 
the principles here laid down. Its early rent roll, 
X35 New York currency, burdened not the age that 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 387 

gave it. Its growing rent roll, like a swelling stream, 
has been distributed into a thousand rills, caiTjing 
the gospel into the desert, as well as nourishing it at 
home ; and from time to time creating with its sur- 
plus waters new and independent reservoirs of 
strength, such as Columbia College in 175-1, Trinity 
School in 1800, and the Society for Promotion of 
Religion and Learning in 1802, to carry out more 
abundantly over a thirsty land the waters of life." 

I would here remark that the adverse influences 
which many have complained of as flowing from the 
endowment of Trinity Church, resulted, in my father's 
opinion, from her standing alone among many par- 
ishes which, in all other respects save that of wealth, 
were according to her construction of her own posi- 
tion, her equals ; and that these would have been 
obviated had she either been one of several similarly 
endowed, or, more in harmony with primitive prin- 
ciples, as the bishop's church been the cathedral of 
the diocese. 

Home life in the mean time ran on much as usual, 
except that the household gradually thinned out again, 
not now by bereavement, but by marriage. The 
removal of Columbia College from its orio-inal site 
to the upper part of the city broke up the old home 
at 8 College Green. After one tentative move my 
father settled down again in 32d Street, in a house 
which had belonged to his brother-in-law, Mr. Wil- 
liam Jay. Here his winters were passed, with the 
exception of the many happy days, especially Sun- 
days, which were given to those, whom he knew 



388 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. 

enjoyed his presence, at the little rectory house of 
St. Barnabas, Irvington. And when he could not 
come in person, a bright, cheerful note, or a few lines 
of rhyme, were sent as a peace-offering. Of the 
first, this Christmas note of his seventy-second year 
will serve as an example : — 

Xtmas, 5 P.M., I860. 

My dear Son, — If this were not Christmas it 
would be cold weather. It requires all its warm 
greetings to keep one comfortable ; and upon that 
text I write to send our warmest to the rectory be- 
fore Christmas Day is swallowed up in the all-devour- 
ing Past. To one and each and all, we therefore 
say, as in the olden time, " A merry, merry Christ- 
mas." Our morning breakfast brought to light our 
respective " presents," in which I am ashamed to say 
I was a receiver, and not a giver. Having outrun 
the constable and overdrawn my bank account, I ap- 
peared in forma pauperis, and had ray crying wants 
supplied by a splendid razor-strop to keep company 
with its namesake and make it available in dull 
times, and an umbrella of silk, too beautiful to be 
exposed to the storm and not needful at present for 
the heat ; so that till summer comes I shall be con- 
tent with my headless cotton one I have not 

yet told you of our young people's safe arrival some 
hours after time, having met with delay, and been 
saved from imminent danger, in crossing a bridge 
while burning. The bold conductor dashed over it 
without a minute to spare, through smoke and flame, 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 389 

having many precious souls on boai'd, among others 
President Lincoln and Secretary Seward. I am the 
only one of the household not quite bright, suffering 
fi'om what I thought I never had, a severe cold, got 
with running about on our severest day to get to- 
gether the Standing Committee, at the call of the 

Bishop, for urgent business With love to 

F., and a kiss to each of the children, 
I remain, as usual. 

Your affectionate father, 

J. McVlCKAK. 

At another time came up the following, founded 
on the effects of a grandchild's cold in the head : — 

A CHILD'S MISTAKE THROUGH SYMPATHY. 

" ' It blows, it snows,' young Willie said 
To Harry, as he lay in bed, 
With handkerchief beneath his head. 

" ' Who blows his nose 1 ' poor Hal sneezed out. 
' Has he a cold ? Why then 's he out 1 
All night, d'ye say ? Well, then, I knows 
As well as you, he blows his nose.' " 

Yet this was not the exuberance of health, but 
rather the long formed habit of cheerfulness for the 
sake of others. Not long after, he wrote : — 

" For myself, I have been up with you but little 
this winter, not through want of inclination or love, 
for my thoughts are daily with you, but through 
years ! My feet are tender, my eye annoying, and 
my whole body more dependent than ever on fireside 
comfort and the daily routine of my own room. 



390 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

Though all this is grumbling, and a little exagger- 
ated, for what I sav of years has not yet stopped me 
of my duties, though last Sunday it was a trial to get 
to the island from ice and storm. I met the Roman 
Catholic priest at the boat, but he withdrew, saying 
he would not cross such weather." 

In 1862 these crossings to the island, as we have 
seen, came to an end by his unwilling resignation of 
the chaplaincy ; but he did not, on that account, rest 
from Sunday duties. On a leaf of a pocket note- 
book of 1863' I find a list of twelve city clergymen 
for whom he had preached during the winter, for 
several more than once, and generally those were 
selected whom he had reason to think were over- 
worked. One, whom he thought highly of, and to 
visit whose church required quite a journey, thus 
writes : — 

MoiTDAT, March 14, 1864. 

My deae. and honored Brother, — I cannot 
deny myself the pleasure of expressing to you my 
warmest thanks for your services yesterday, and to 
assure you that your words reached many hearts. I 
hope we may all remember, and profit by, your whole- 
some and touching counsels. Your presence at St. 
James's is always a genuine pleasure to the congrega- 
tion, and I need hardly say to — 

Yours most truly, 

P. T. Chauncey. 

Rev. Dr. McVickae, etc., etc. 
So writes the one who listened, and it is pleasant 



CHURCH INTERESTS. 391 

to be able to compare the thoughts of the preacher, 
who, under the same date, writing to his son, says, — 
" I was with Dr. Chauncey last Sunday, in an old 
wooden church my father united in building sixty 
years ago, and which I had hardly seen since I was a 
boy ; and as I sat on the half-fallen willows of that 
age, I preached a more effective sermon to myself 
than it is likely I did to others within the building." 

In 1862 my father was elected President of the 
Standing Committee of the Diocese of New York. 
This brought upon him some new duties and closer 
relations with the Bishop. He was now fully engaged, 
and practically interested in diocesan affairs, and his 
voice was often heard in the counsels of the Church. 
It was in the Convention of the succeeding year that 
he introduced the subject of the "Provincial Sys- 
tem." This has since steadily gained approval as a 
wise, practical measure, till this year, 1870, has seen 
the first meeting, in the city of New York, of the 
bishops and the delegates of the five dioceses now 
included within the State. 

The underlying idea in my father's mind was a 
plan which would allow of the increase of the epis- 
copate, and the multiplication of dioceses, without 
weakening the position of the Church as coincident 
with the civil lines of the State. He acknowl- 
edged that it was a difficult problem to work out, 
especially when a State had already been divided, 
but none the less important on that account, and he 
therefore boldly pressed it upon the Church in spite 
of the disfavor with Avhich it was at first received. 



392 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

This endeavor to hold the Church lines coincident 
with the civil lines, according to the practice of the 
early Church, was the important feature in which his 
plan of Provinces differed from the earlier one of 
Bishop DeLancey. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

RETIREMENT AND DEATH : 1864-1868. 

TN the early spring of 1864 the Trustees of Colum- 
-*- bia College called upon the Faculty to report to 
them, in view of a memorial to Congress, upon the 
subject of a uniform system of weights, measures, 
and coins. The Faculty submitted the question to a 
committee of their own body, of which Professor 
McVickar was chairman. The majority of this com- 
mittee agreed upon two principles, which they em- 
bodied in about twice as many lines, and submitted 
that as their report. The chairman dissented on the 
ground that it was not worthy of the college or the 
subject, or in accordance with their instructions, and 
could not but be inoperative if sent to Congress in 
that bald shape, bringing in himself a minority report 
of considerable length. President King, writing to 
the chairman with respect to it, says, — " The mem- 
bers of the Board of Trustees were much impressed 
with your report as meeting fiilly their resolution, 
and as stating with precision and ability the merits of 
the whole question, and if the paper had been 
officially before them, on the part of the Faculty, they 
would, I think, at once have accepted and ordered it 
to be transmitted to Congress." 



394 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. 

This was one of the last college duties which my 
father officially performed. Soon after, he and Presi- 
dent King retired together, though the title, and in 
his case the emolument, of " Emeritus Professor," 
still attached him to the College, a connection only 
severed by his death. 

His last report as professor of the " Evidences " 
was submitted two months later, and concludes with 
what we may consider the ripe deductions of a nearly 
fifty years' professional experience. 

In conclusion, I would venture to observe that 
from the frequent voluntary acknowledgments made 
to me by students in after life, I cannot but highly 
appreciate the value of such a religious course in the 
completion of academic education : and express the 
belief that such enduring influence on the mind of 
the student has arisen mainly from the whole subject 
being treated in the lecture-room, not as a matter of 
memory, or book learning, but altogether as a ques- 
tion of conscience and individual conviction, thus 
planting in the mind and heart, when all that was 
trusted to the memory is forgotten, living seeds that 
never die. 

Respectfully, 

John McVickar, 

Professor of Evidences up to June, 1864, but at present date Professor 
Emeritus. 

The following to the writer, who had gone abroad 
for health, is somewhat in the spirit of his earlier let- 
ters, which, with the increase of years and infirmi- 



RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 395 

ties, and somewhat in conformity with an age that 
was giving up letter writing, had become more and 
more infrequent : — 

New York, November 17, 1865. 

My dear Son, — I have delayed long writing to 
you, waiting for something beyond family news. Your 
letters bring back all my own pleasure in the scenes 
you describe, doubled by the delight of your improv- 
ing strength and health. You showed good judg- 
ment in avoiding Liverpool, and striking at once on 
the antiquities of our ancestral home in cathedral 
Chester, and the splendor of her modern science in 
the " Menai bridges." These first impressions are 
all important in their associations, and most enduring 
in remembrance with those who visit England, as 
aU of your party but yourself do, for the first time. 

But now for our land and its mighty interests. 
Our Church is advancing, as she has never done be- 
fore, with national strides. The South is coming in, 
I may almost say, bodily. Broken up by the sects 
and their endless disputes and divisions, they look to 
the Church as the only earthly rock on which they 
can rest. Our late General Convention has been a 
national blessing, and a great element in the concilia- 
tion of the South. The new bishops from that quar- 
ter are powerful persuaders. Bishop Quintard, after 
his consecration, came on here, when a new bond 
arose between us, on learning from him that he was 
one of my own " Trinity School " scholars ; and as I 
was aiding him in his first service here, he brought 
with him his old teacher. Dr. William Morris. Of 



396 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

his preaching you may take, as my opinion, my first 
words on his leaving the pulpit, " As I listened to you 
I said to myself, there is a Church Luther." 

To the General Convention I went, overpersuaded 

by S , and a warm invitation from J. C and 

his wife, where I passed a very delightful week. I 
was treated with unexpected courtesy by the bishops, 
invited the first day to lunch with them in their pri- 
vate room, being greeted on my introduction as 
" Bishop of Governor's Island." The next day I 
dined with them at their hotel, myself the only "un- 
dignified " member, and, worst of all, being called on, 
English fashion, for an after-dinner speech. " Tell 
us something " they said, " of Old Columbia," some 
of my own scholars among the bishops having pre- 
ceded me. " My Lord Bishop of Montreal," who 
presided, was very complimentary on the occasion, 
and proffered many courtesies. The discussions in 
the Convention (the House) were able and full of in- 
terest. The " provincial system " was referred to a 
large committee. Dr. Mahan, chairman ; a warm ad- 
vocate for it in principle, as he admitted to me, yet 
averse to going further. And so it passed the House, 
permission to New York and Pennsylvania, which 
was all we hoped for. .... 

A great shock came to us three days ago, in the 
total destruction by fire of St. George's Church, in 
this city, through a furnace carelessly left on the roof 
by the plumbers. The towers and outside walls alone 
remain ; the parsonage untouched, on the roof of which 
Dr. Tyng stood during the whole conflagration, in . 



RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 397 

spite of solicitation of friends. The next moniing 
early I went down to see him. He was much ex- 
cited. He had a MS. sermon before him. " See," 
said he, " the first sermon I preached in this church, 
on its opening; mark the date, seventeen years ago 
this coming Sunday, 19th of November; and note 
the text, 1 Corinthians iii. 13, ' It shall be revealed 
by fire ; ' and on Sunday next I shall finish the text, 
' To try every man's work, of what sort it is.' 
Now," said he, " if my work has been true, it Avill 
stand the fire, and I shall renew my strength ; if 
not, my work is done," etc. It was very touching, 
and I think, when I can learn where he preaches, I 
shall go and hear him, for I feel deep sympathy for 
him. He said to me in parting, " I love you, for 
you have been always kind to me." . . . . 

Speaking of the treatment of offenses, in a note of 
about this time, my father says, — 

" Let us live in the present and for the future, not 
in the past, which is dead and gone and should be 
buried, except for our own improvement, if we would 
live either wisely or happily in this world. The 
world has too many trials, and life too many sorrows 
for us to add gratuitously to the number by raking 
up the offenses of our friends, whether real or im- 
agined. On this rule I have ever sought to order 
my course and discipline my feelings, and the result 
has been Peace. I think I have never had, though 
offenses have come, separation from a friend ; I know 
I have often prevented it by the course I here recom- 
mend." 



393 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. 

During tlie spring of the succeeding year, 1866, 
the Trustees of Cohimbia College had requested Pro- 
fessor McVickar to sit for his portrait, which, on the 
23d of May, was publicly hung on the walls of the 
Library. This brought about his last public appear- 
ance in the halls of that College to whose best in- 
terests he had been so lono- devoted. Friends and a 
large gathering of former pupils conspired with the 
authorities of the College to make it an occasion of 
more than ordinary interest. At least, it seemed so 
to those who were present ; and the mature, not to 
say venerable age of those who were the principals, 
both alumni and professor, gave a solemnity to the 
remarks then made, differing from such occasions 
generally. 

The address of the alumni was signed by over 
seventy names, beginning with one of the class of 
1812 and two from the class of 1818, the first which 
graduated after Professor McVickar's election. 

To this address, an earnest and touching reply 
was made ; but the following letter to the chairman of 
the committee embodies, in shorter form, its chief 
characteristics : — 

Irvington, July 4, 1866. 

My dear Doctor, — I return to you, by your son, 
the precious package of letters you were kind enough 
to intrust me with, for my perusal, from my old col- 
lege students, on the late festive college occasion. I 
return them together with many thanks, both to 
yourself and them ; or rather, I should say, with 
deep but contradictory emotions of both pride and 



RETIREMENT AND DEATH 399 

humility ; with pride at finding myself so affection- 
atel}' remembered in long after years, amid the cares 
and business of life, to many of whom I have for 
years looked up for guiding examples to myself in 
the duties of life ; but then again more deeply hum- 
bled than proud, in feeling myself wholly unworthy 
of such high eulogium. 

My highest merit in my varied fifty years' pro- 
fessorship, has been simply that of heartfelt sincerity 
in that which I taught. Whatever it was, I ever 
sought to unite Truth ivith Duty, to deepen its foun- 
dations by bringing it home to the heart and the con- 
science, as well as to make it clear to the understand- 
ing, and imprint it on the memory of the students ; 
and in these their present letters of thankful remem- 
brance, I feel that I have my sufficient reward. Some 
word of earnest teaching must, I conclude, have 
stuck fast in the heart as well as memory, or they 
could not thus have written. " I remember well the 
last words you said to me," was the recent address 
to me of an alumnus of thirty years' standing, whom 
I had wholly forgotten, " I remember them well, and 
have lived on them ever since." 

But to one other point of influence in my course, 
though unnamed in the Alumni letters, I feel not 
unwilling to plead guilty. It is the lesson of quiet, 
steady perseverance in the duties to which in early 
life God's providence called me, and the blessing that 
ever rested upon it. For this one lesson of my life, 
— a lesson so i*are yet so needful in our land of rest- 
less change, — I am willing that my example should 



400 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

be both quoted, and praised, and followed; and in any 
future eulogium of my life or character be esteemed 
and taken for its chief merit and value. 
Affectionately and truly. 

Your professor, friend, and brother, 

John McVickae, 
Emeritus Professor Columbia College. 

To Eev. B. I. Haight, S. T. D., 
Chairman of Committee, etc. 

The trial of the Rev. Mr. Tyng in 1867, and the 
Bishop's departure for England to attend the Angli- 
can Council, brought additional work and some anx- 
iety on my father as President of the Standing Com- 
mittee of the diocese. But, though faithful to all 
duty, he was quite willing now to let others take the 
laboring oar; and in the Secretary, the Rev. Dr. 
Eigenbrodt, he found one ever ready, with unobtru- 
sive kindness, to relieve him of all unnecessary labor. 

On the 16th of July of this year he writes : — 

My dear Son, — It is very long since I wrote to 
you ; not from forgetfulness, but want of power. 
Hand and head are both feeble. Amid patriarchal 
claims, you head the list as my only son and dearest 

brother in the ministry I have again to 

go down to the city this week, to organize the busi- 
ness of the diocese, the Bishop having sailed for Eng- 
land and made our committee the " Ecclesiastical 
authority " to call the convention and arrange matters, 
but Dr. Eigenbrodt relieves me of all trouble 



RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 401 

My only visit from home was, last week, to St. Ste- 
phen's Annandale, where I was anxious once more 
to be and encourage them by the statement of a new 
scholarsliip and an annual prize of fifty dollars for 
elocution, to make their " candidates " correct and 
effective readers, both from the desk and pulpit, 
which so few of our young clergy are 

This prize was then founded, and at the same time 
another, of like amount, in " Trinity School," " for 
the most deserving scholar," annually, in the first 
and second classes. The scholarship referred to, 
of three thousand dollars, was provided for by Will. 
A note, of about the same date as the above, shows 
that the idea of the cathedral system was still hold- 
ing its place in my father's mind as a measure of 
practical importance to the Church. 

" Trinity, I understand, is to pay off its half mill- 
ion debt through the Astor lots ; with the remainder 
to make Trinity Church building cruciform, and 
cathedral-like, and, if I have a Avord to say, to have a 
Bishop's Home as a visible centre of Church influence 
in the city." 

A few weeks later he writes : — 

" For myself, my time is short ; my strength fails, 
but not my health. I still keep up my small work in 
the Church and its societies, in most of which I am 
still the presiding officer, and always (?) at my post. 
It is a great comfort to me to find them all successful. 
As to Church questions I do not trouble myself, being 
content to teach as I practice, — Be faithful in your 

own work., and all will be well." 
26 



402 LIFE OF JOHN McVICKAR. 

This is my last record in my father's handwriting, 
and as such it is not without its interest. That con- 
scientious little query-point, slipped in afterwards, as 
if he thought it possible that he had been over bold 
in stating that he was never absent from his posts of 
duty, shows a remarkable absence of the almost 
natural boastfulness of age, while the few emphatic 
words of closing, " Be faithful in your own work, 
and all will be well," form a strikingly true, and, as 
it seems, involuntary summing up of the teachings of 
his whole life. A few months before, however, he 
had written some lines on the baptism of his youngest 
grandchild, bearing a loved family name, which seem 
with peculiar fitness to close the literary record of 
my father's life. This baptismal gift, though strictly 
intended for the home circle, seems, as a polished 
pendant, to afford a graceful finish to the chain of a 
consistent and thoughtful Christian literary life. It 
appears, as read now, to have been a preparatory 
gathering-up of links from the long buried past, in 
preparation for the journey which was so soon to 
restore that past to the writer in a living and unend- 
ing present. As such, and not because of the poetic 
merit it may possess, it is here given, though as an 
evidence of intellectual vigor at the advanced age of 
eighty years, it is not without its interest : — 

"TO MY GEAOT)DAUGHTER ANNA, 

On her Baptism in St. Baenabas's Church, Irvington, Sun- 
day, 2d September, 1 866, after the Death of her Lit- 
tle Sister. 

" Thou precious babe ! ordained to bless 
Thy mother in her loneliness, — 



RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 403 

The sad, pale face by death removed 

From earth to heaven, yet there as here beloved. 

Anna ! It was my mother's name who gave me birth, 

And ever 'mid the childish joys of earth. 

Taught me to know and love my Saviour Lord, 

His holy church on earth, and his redeeming word. 

Anna ! It was my daughter's and my first-born's name. 

Who gave me first to know an d feel a father's claim, 

Doubling the earthly joys of married love 

With priceless gifts, descending from above. 

Beauty and grace were hers, and gentle art, 

To warm, to please, and elevate the heart. 

While fitting it for higher joy and peace. 

In that blest world where sin and sorrow cease. 

" Though fifty years have past, since when 
God called thee to Himself again, 
Anna, thy name still brings to clearest sight 
The picture of a youthful angel bright, — 
Too bright alas ! to linger long below, 
'Mid chilling blasts and winter's snow. 
In bearing thus a name so dear to me, 
Anna ! my prayers are offered up for thee. 
That thou like her, a joy may ever prove 
To friends below on earth, and holy saints above. 
But if to thee a longer race be given. 
To train up children for their home in heaven, 
Then may my mother's name remembrance give. 
Of how a Christian mother ought to live, 
Winning, of earth's rewards, that only test, — 
Her children do rise up and call her bless'd." 

The first intimation to those outside his own family 
that Professor McVickar's health was seriously fail- 
ing, was given in the few happy and touching words 
in which it was alluded to by the Bishop of New 
York in his convention address of October, 1868 : — 

" One venerable and honored presbyter of this* 



404 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. 

diocese, oppressed with the weight of years, but not 
chilled in his love for the Church or in his devotion 
to duty, retires from the official station which he has 
so long and ably filled as President of the Standing 
Committee — the Rev. John McVickar, D. D., for 
half a century a professor in Columbia College — 
what a historical name in this diocese ! How stead- 
fast in his principles, how far reaching in his views, 
and how elevated in all his thoughts and sentiments ! 
May the rays of that sun which never sets to the 
Christian heart shine brightly and cheerily along his 
path, and in his chamber, until faith, hope, and love 
change into the bliss and glory of the perfect day ! " 

This was in the bemnnina; of October. Before the 
month closed the subject of this memoir was at rest. 
The summer had been spent at Bloomingdale, within 
a short distance of the old paternal mansion where, 
sixty years before, as a solitary student, we saw him 
preparing for that life-work, which, nobly finished, 
he was now about to lay down. Surrounded by his 
surviving children, he passed quietly away, in his 
eighty-second year, with the oft-reiterated words, 
"Pray," " Prayer," " Praise," upon his lips, and was 
buried in the grave-yard of his own Church at Hyde 
Park, beside her whose memory he had so faithfully 
cherished, and in the grave he had marked for him- 
self thirty-five years before. 

Thus in peace ended the " life " which I have en- 
deavored to portray. I have willfully kept back 
nothing that could interfere with a true estimate of 
the character which that life helped to form. To 



RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 405 

give shape and outline to this estimate is a duty which 
the writer, as a son, is unwilling to assume. He 
lays it upon his readers as their work, and to assist 
them adds these few lines of autobiography written 
in 1860 : — 

" In concluding, my dear son, at your request, this 
brief memoranda, let me add what I hold to be its 
lesson. My life has been a long, and has now become 
a protracted one. Every such life must give its les- 
son, like a sum worked out, a story fully told. Mine 
I think is this. The power and blessing of quiet per- 
severance. A feeble constitution thus hardened — a 
treacherous memory thus made retentive — very 
moderate talents thus fitted for usefulness — fair 
scholarship thus gained by quiet industry — college 
duties an early choice and never changed — and 
through my whole life an abiding feeling that, in a 
good cause, rightly pursued, nothing is impossible. 
The single eye and the unchanging mind governs 
the world, and in proportion as we partake of them 
we are successful, and in all good works, both bless- 
ing and blessed. I repeat, therefore, as the lesson of 
my life your early learned nursery motto, — 

" * PEKSEVEKANTIA OMNIA VINCIT.' " 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX. 



Rev. Wm. A. McVickar, D. D. 

My dear Sir, — Your kind and friendly note has remained 
too long without an answer. 

Various engagements, it is true, have occupied my attention, 
but my excuse is, not so much want of time as want of ability 
properly to write anything on a subject which your late re- 
spected father, as Professor of Political Economy in Columbia 
College, treated so profoundly and learnedly. 

And even now, I should hardly venture any remarks, were it 
not that a fresh perusal of his " American Finances, " " The 
Expediency of abolishing Damages on Protested Bills^of Ex- 
change," " Notes on a National Bank," and " Hints on Bank- 
ing," have revived my feelings of wonder and admiration, ex- 
cited by the reading of the latter several years since. 

To a practical man of business, an every-day banker, it 
really seems wonderful that a scholar, investigating the subject 
of Political Economy on purely scientific principles, should 
be able to see, not only the practical workings of existing laws, 
and understand the indissoluble relations of money and trade, 
but should also be able to foresee and foretell what changes 
are necessary to produce the highest prosperity and secure the 
greatest safety to the community. 

To me it seems perfectly clear, that the writings of your 
father prove that he possessed this power. 

Take, for instance, his essay on " The Evils of Divers State 
Laws to regulate Damages on Foreign Bills of Exchange." 
Practically, banks, bankers, and merchants now admit the cor- 



410 APPENDIX. 

rectness of views promulgated by Professor McVickar more 
than forty years ago ; whicli Mr. Verplanck tried to get Con- 
gress to remedy by law in 1829. Although he failed to do so, 
the several State laws have now become a dead letter. 

Perhaps the most remarkable instance of the application of 
pure principle to practical finance is found in Professor Mc- 
Vickar's letter to a member of the Legislature of this State, 
entitled " Hints on Banking," dated February 17, 1827. 

In that communication of some forty pages is foreshadowed 
the Free Banking Law of this State, passed in May, 1838. It 
suggested, — 

1. " Banking to be a free trade, in so far as that it may be 
freely entered into by individuals or associations, under the 
provisions of a general statute." 

2. " The amount of the banking capital of such individual 
or association to be freely fixed, but to be invested, one tenth 
at the discretion of the bank, the remaining nine tenths in 
government stock, whereof the bank is to receive the dividends, 
but the principal to remain in pledge for the redemption of its 
promissory notes, under such security as to place the safety of the 
public beyond doubt or risk" etc. 

3. " The promissory notes of such individual or association 
to bear upon their face the nature and amount of stock thus 
pledged, together with the usual signatures," etc. 

The writer adds : " That these provisions would free bank- 
ing from all abuses, it would be arrogance to assert ; but that 
they would remedy many and great ones that now exist, seems 
to be unquestionable. Nor would their adoption be attended 
with the dangers which generally await untried novelties. 
They are already established by the experience of other trades." 

This last sentence, which I have Italicized, shows the prin- 
ciple on which this question had been solved. It was not a 
groping in the dark, but a clear perception of vital elements, 
known to be working in " other trades." 

Now it should be remembered that this letter was written 
to an influential member of the Legislature in 1827; eleven 
years later, the seed thus sown matured; in 1838 the Free 



APPENDIX. 411 

Banking Law was passed.' It contains not only the ideas, but 
almost the precise form of expression which the letter con- 
tained. 

Nor was the principle thus evolved confined to this State or 
country. In 1843-44, when Sir Robert Peel proposed his 
amendments to the charter of the Bank of England, this secur- 
ity for the bank's circulating notes was not lost sight of. 

The issue department was made distinct and separate from 
the discount department of the bank, litis idea was suggested 
in 1841, by your father, in his review and criticism on the 
Bank of the United States. He there showed the practicabil- 
ity and necessity of having the issue of circulating notes inde- 
pendent of the discount department, and proposed that it be 
under the charge of a board of governors, while the other parts 
of the bank should still be managed by the directors. 

If I mistake not, in the discussions which arose in Parlia- 
ment on the subject of the Bank of England, in 1844, reference 
was had to the Free Banking Law of this State, then six 
years in successful operation, to show the feasibility of limiting 
and securing the bank's issue beyond a peradventure. 
■ The influence, therefore, of Professor McVickar's letter of 
1827 was not temporary nor confined to the State of New 
York, although attempts to introduce the Free Banking Sys- 
tem into other States prevailed only partially. 

The old unsecured currency of State banks, was more profit- 
able to the stockholders; and when such institutions were 
faithfully managed, the public rarely sutTered a loss on bank 
bills. This was true as to the Safety Fund Banks, and also 
in regard to the earlier chartered banking institutions of the 
several States. 

Still, in exceptional cases, the community did lose, and the 
advantage of the Free Banking System over either of the old 
systems was that the people were by the former entirely se- 
cured from loss, by bonds lodged in the banking department 
of the State, beyond the control of the bank, and held in trust 
to i^ay the bill-holders if the bank should default. 

Ao-ain, in 1863 we find this system oflered to the whole 



412 APPENDIX. 

country, and adopted by Congress in tlie following Act, namely : 
" An Act to provide a National currency, secured by a pledge 
of United States stocks, and to provide for the circulation and 
redemption thereof." 

This National Bank Act, with more defects than improve- 
ments, — as compared with the original, — is the New York 
Free Banking Law of 1838, over again. Possibly, it may yet be 
so essentially modified as to be made to perform, satisfactorily, 
the work of a proper United States Bank, and its branches. 

Under this law the National banks now furnish a paper cur- 
rency of larger volume, and of more uniform value, through- 
out the country, than has been known before. 

Your father, in common with many of the best thinkers in 
the land, was in favor of a National or United States Bank, 
with wise restrictions as to undue political influences; and 
possessing the power to regulate exchanges, to furnish secured 
circulating notes, redeemable (at the parent bank) in coin, 
and required to afford facilities to mercantile and commercial 
interests in the shape of discounts. 

One great truth is now fixed and determined, and that is, 
that hereafter, no bank or banks will be allowed by law to 
supply a circulating medium not secured to the public outside 
of the lank itself! And it must be a source of inexpress- 
ible satisfaction to you, my dear sir, that your father was 
gifted with such powers of reasoning as enabled him to de- 
fine and establish a vital truth in political economy, for the 
benefit of mankind. 

Please accept my thanks for that valuable pamphlet, " Hints 
on Banking," and believe me, yom's sincerely, 

J. E. WILLIAMS. 

Steawberky Hill, October 15, 1870. 



INDEX. 



ABBOTSFORD, visit to, 157- 
172. 

Academy of France, 217, 232. 

AcKLAXD, Sir Thomas, 134, 137. 

Addison, Lady Huntington's rec- 
ollections of, -10. 

Afc-leck, Lady, 133. 

Andernach, schools at, 187. 

Anderson, Gen. Robert, opinion 
of the War, 326. 

Archery, as an exercise for busi- 
ness men, 201. 

BADEN-BADEN, its gambling 
rooms, 192. 
Banking, principles of, 89. 
national, 92. 
works on. Appendix. 
Bany^er, Mrs., and Miss Jay, me- 
moir of, 383. 
Bard, Dr. Samuel, mode of life 
at Hyde Park, 53. 
letters "from, 17, 51. 
death of, 59. 
memoir of, 69. 
Bard, Ma. William, character of, 

71. 
Bard, Miss Sally, letter from, 20. 
extracts from diarv, 23, 24, 

44, 289, 290. 
death of, 290. 
Barnabas, St., chapel-school of, 

Irvington, 366. 
Barton, Mrs., 54, 56. 
Bates, Sir Joshua, 128, 178. 
Bayard, Rev. Dr., 301. 
Bedloe's Island, chaplaincy du- 
ties at, 320. 
Bolingbroke, Lady Huntington's 

recollections of, 40. 
BowDEN, Rev. Prof., death of, 44. 



Bowditcii, Dr., 300. 

Bristed, Mr., candidate for pro- 
fessorship in Columbia Col- 
lege, 47. 

Bkoglie, Due DE, 214. 

Broglie, Dccuksse de, 214, 219. 

Buckingham, Silk, 221. 

BuRDETT, SIR Francis, 176. 

Byron, Scott's opinion of, 162. 

CALHOUN, Mr., 12L 
California, missions to, 318. 
Campbell, the poet, 226. 
Cambreleng, Mr. C. C., on bank- 
ing questions, 243. 
Canova, works of, 136. 
Cathedral System, advantages 
of, 267, 355, 358. 
missions, 355-359, 375-380, 
401. 
Chalmers, Dr., 127. 

his life at home, 149. 
Chantry, visit to studio of, 136. 
Chaplaincy, at Fort Columbus 
308. 
resignation of, 328. 
Charles X., Mr. Rives' estimate 

of, 215. 
Chase, Bishop, of Illinois, on mis- 
sions, 318. 
Cheerfulness, a duty, 297. 
Chess Cafe, in Paris, 220, 223. 
City Mission Society, a founder 

of, 247, 266. 
Clowes, Rev. Timothy, trial of, 

40. 
Club, The, of New York, 300. 
Coleridge, visit to, 130. 
Scott's opinion of, 169. 
influence of his philosophy 
293-297. 



414 



INDEX. 



Columbia College, Commence- 
ment in 1829. 98. 
competitive examination for 

entrance, 7. 
chaplaincy of, 341. 
proposed plan of examinations 
and suggestions, 343. 

CoNSTABLEViLLE, Summer home 
at, 258. 

Convent, a self-supporting one at 
Ghent, 185. 

CooPEK, J. Fenimoee, 214, 265. 

CoPYBiGHT, Sir Walter Scott's 
view of, 171. 
proposed as a monument to 
ScoLt, 253. 

Cork, Countess of, 228. 

CoRNELissoN, Peof., at Ghent,183. 

Cunningham, Allen, Scott's opin- 
ion of, 165. 

CuviER, Baron, 218. 

DEAF AND Dumb, first efforts 
of Mr. Gallaudet and Mr. 

Clerc, 37. 
Dean, Prof., estimate of Prof. 

McVickar's teaching, 347. 
Death, earlj^ influence of, 237. 
Democracy in the Home, root 

of much evil, 344. 
DeRham, Wm. Moore, memorial 

ot, 267. 
" Devotions for the Family," 

publication of, 32, 280. 
Dickens, Mr. and Mrs., charac- 
ter of, 306. 
Doane, Bishop, estimate of, in 

England, 279. 
on the Cathedral Sj'stem, 376. 
Duee, William, election to Presi- 
dency of Columbia College, 111. 
DupONCEAu, Mr., 284. 

ECCLESIOLOGICAL Society, 
352, 354, 360. 
Education, really training, 339. 

English, 340. 
Elections for Parliament, 173, 

177. 
Emulation in Education, dan- 
gers of, 7. 
Endowments, 361, 366, 386. 

not to be used for present need, 
245. 
English Society, 231. 
Eeskine, Rev. Thomas, 153. 



Everett, Edward, 84, 280. 
Evidences of Cheistianixy, 291, 
292. 

FAITHFULNESS in Duty, 401. 
Family Treasuries in Gen- 
eva, 211. 
Fellenbukg, 199. 
Fitz-Clarence, Col., son of Wil- 
liam IV., 179. 
Franklin. Sir John and Lady, 

134.' 
French House of Deputies, 216. 

GAINES, Gen., visit with him to 
his battle-grounds, 73. 
Gallatin, family of at Geneva. 211. 
General Convention of 1865, 

395. 
Ghent, University of, 184. 
Giez, residence of DeKhams in 

Switzerland, 198. 
Governor's Island, erection of 

church on, 310. 
Grant, Mrs., of Laggan, 154, 251. 
Griffin, memoir of, 237. 

HALL, Capt. Basil, 201. 
Hall, Rev. Robert, 138. 

H.\milton, first eulogium on, 10. 

Harris, Pres., death and char- 
acter, 107, 108. 

Hayne, Gen., 119. 

Heber, Mrs., 129, 173. 

Heidelberg, Universit}' of, 190. 

Hemans, Mrs., visit to,"l41. 

Heebies, Mr.,' Chancellor of Eng- 
land, 180. 

" Hints on Banking," 88. 

Hobaht, Bishop, letter from, 102. 
" Early and Professional Years " 
of, 271. 

Holy Communion, views concern- 
ing, 79. 

Home Life at Constableville, 
286. 

Hook, De., of Leeds, letter from, 
274. 

HoRTON, Right Hon. Wilmot, 
137. 

HuBER, the naturalist, 109, 199. 

Humboldt, Baron von, 217, 219. 

Hume, Hon. Joseph, election for 
Middlesex, 175. 

Husefield, Dr., of the India 
House, 228. 



INDEX. 



415 



Hyde Park, a patent-right to the 
Bards, 17. 
church at, when built, 24. 

INDIAN Missions, interest in, 95. 
Inglis, Sik Robert, 134, 175, 
276-279. 
"Interest made Equity," when 

published, 88. 
"Inwood,"' at H\-de Park, 23. 

at Irvington, 364. 
Irving, Kev. Edward, 127, 130. 
Irving, \Y^ashingt<)n, 98. 
Irvington, removal to, 363. 

JACKSON, Andrew, 120. 
Jakvis, Kev. Samuel F., 41, 
45-48. 
Jay, Gov., visit to at Bedford, 39. 

character of, 323. 
Jefferson, Thos., letter from, 86. 
Jeffrey, Lord, 150, 156. 
Scott's opinion of, 165. 
Jubilee Celebration of the S. 
P. G., at Trinity Church, 360. 
JuLiEN, M., of Paris, 221. 

KENT, Chancellor, letter from, 
87. 
King, Pres. Charles, inaugura- 
tion of, 338. 

LAFAYETTE, JVIarquis de, 216. 
popularity of, 224, 226. 

his receptions, 223. 
Law School, for Columbia College 

proposed, 66. 
Leavenworth, Rkv. J. M., first 

missionarj' to California, 319. 
LiSTON, Sir Robert, 150, 154. 
LocKHART, appearance of, 148, 230. 
Louis Philippe and Family, 

evening spent with. 225. 
Lowell, visit to manufactories of, 

299. 
Lyndhurst, Lord, 229. 

MACKINTOSH, Sir James, 134. 
Macready, character of, 279. 
McLane, Alexander, 180. 
McLane, Louis, 243. 
McViCKAR, Rev. John, parent- 
age, 1, 4. 
college days, 6. 
as a student, 13 
as a parish priest, 27-30. 



McViCKAR, Rev. John, professor 
in Columbia College, 49. 

as a writer on finance, 87-93, 
Appendix. 

as a preacher, 29, 390. 

as a lecturer, 347. 

his " noni de plume," 329. 

opinion of by pupils, 345. 

social tastes, 383 

kindness to brother clergymeny 
390. 

perseverance of, 399. 

extent of college duties, 382. 

McViCKAR, ANNA, 239. 

IMcVicKAR, Mrs., 20, 255. 
McViCKAR, Sa.muel Bard, 287, 

289. 
Maelzel, 220, 221. 
Marsh, Dr., edition of" Aids to 

Reflection," 294. 
Marshall, Chief Justice, 121. 
Martineau, Miss, 284. 
Melrose Abbey, 148. 
Metternich, Prince, 197. 
Missions, banded labor in, 374. 
Moore, C. C, 45, 47, 64. 
More, Mrs. Hannah, death of,. 

276. 
Morrison, great retail merchant 

of London, 177. 
Morristown, summer at, 362. 

IVTAPOLEON I., narrow escapes 

-1-* on the St. Bernard, 209. 

Napoleon III., in New York, 305. 

Naval School, proposed to be at- 
tached to Columbia College 
118. 

New Y'ork Athen.eum, president 
of, 247. 

OFFENSES treatment of. 397. 
Ogilby, Rev. John D., 98; 
103. 
O'Meara, Napoleon's physician, 

129. 
Onderdonk, Bishop Benjamin, 

333-337. 
Orleans, Duke of, 225. 
Orleans, Mademoiselle, 226. 

PARNELL, Sir H., 135, 227. 
Pestalozzt, the brothers, of 
Switzerland, 195, 198. 
Peters, Rev. Dr., bishop elect of 
Vermont, 40. 



416 



INDEX.. 



PoLiGNAC, Prince, 215. 

Political Economy, first Amer- 
ican chair of, 84. 
public lectures on, 117. 
views of, 351. 

Pope, Ladv Huntington's opinion 
of, 40. 

PoETEAiT, iianging of, on the walls 
of the College Librarj', 398. 

Prizes, founded by Prof. Mc- 
Vickar, 368. 

Peovincial System, 391. 

RECRUITS, interest in, 324. 
Religion, object of, 81. 
philosophic basis of, 346. 
Reserve, in character, danger of, 

75. 
RiGHi, view from, 196. 
Rose, Rev. Hugh James, 275. 

SALTS. Count de, 197. 
SCHLEGEL, FeEDEEICK, 191. 

Schlossee, Prof., of Heidelberg, 
190. 

Science and Religion, 244. 

Scott, Sir Walter, 157. 
eulogium on, 250. 

Sedgwick, Miss Susan, letter 
from, 250. 

Self-reliance, importance of, 75. 

Seminary, Gen. Theol., endow- 
ment of library, 273. 

" Signs of the Times," when 
published, 244. 

Slavery, in State of New York, 
30. 

Smith, Bishop, of Kentucky, on 
Cathedral System, 356. 

Society for the Promotion of 
Religion and Learning, 
247, 302. 

Southey, Robeet, visit to, 142. 

St. Bernard, Hospice of, 202. 
stove sent to the Hospice, 261. 

St. George's Church, destroyed 
by fire, 396. 

St. Stephen's College, Annan- 
dale, 248, 381. 

Standing Committee of New 
York, 248, 391. 

Staten Island, summer residence 
at, 329. 



Stevenson, Col., of the California 

Regiment, 315. 
Stowell, Lord, 135, 227. 
Student, picture of the faithful 

one, 267. 
Syndic of Geneva, 210. 

THOMPSON, Dr. Andrew, of 
■ Edinburgh, 151. 
Training School for the Min- 
istry, 381. 
Travel, effects of, 235. 
Trinity Church, endowment of, 
31, 386 
as a cathedral, 387. 
Trinity School, 150th anniver- 
sary of, 384. 
Truth, its unity, 292. 
Tyng, Rev. Dr., 396. 

UNIVERSITY, course in Colum- 
bia College, 115. 
of France, 232. 
Universities, Scotch, 152. 
German, 342. 
English, 343. 

T/'ERSES, a writer of, 53, 56, 67. 

WADSWORTH, Gen., 84. 
Wainwright, Bishop 
death of, 370, 371. 

War of 1812, 36. 

War of the Rebellion, opinion 
with regard to, 325. 

Washington, Gen., religious char- 
acter of, 241. 

Webster, Daniel, 121, 122. 

Weights and Measures, report 
on uniform system, 393. 

Wellington, Duke of, 141, 180, 
228. 

West, Benjamin, his pictures, 283. 

Westminster Abbey, 135. 

White, Bishop, 241, 282. 

Wilberforck, 134. 
funeral of, 277. 

Wilkesbarre, tour to, 242. 

Williams, Rev. Eleazar, 95, 96. 

Wilson, Prof., of Edinburgh, 151. 

Wordsworth, visit to Rydal 
Mount, 140. 



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